


Gently As She Goes

by graceling_in_a_suit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (like everything i write LMAO), Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Childhood Friends, Comedy, F/F, Fluff, Girl Direction, No Smut, and lesbianiasm, just love, one direction are all girls ! in this fic., there IS a rickroll in this story. no i will not tell you when. you're welcome, well I think its funny but y'know thats neither here nor there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceling_in_a_suit/pseuds/graceling_in_a_suit
Summary: Louis had been Harry’s best friend for as long as she could remember. She was a shoulder to cry on, a head of hair to practice braiding on, a mind as mischievous as Harry’s to scheme up antics and pranks with, someone to fall asleep next to when the nights were cold or when they both got lonely. Someone to dance with, to learn with, to laugh with.They were girls together.Then Louis left.A modern fairytale (literally!) featuring a quest to bring a lost girl home, celtic goddesses, braiding, friendship, true love, and magic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've made a sweet juicy playlist for this fic if you wanna chuck that a listen [ here ](https://open.spotify.com/user/hwq13hwpkz8q8cviwqas88xcr/playlist/56nCXS1hJgwOsJUv1hzpk3?si=PIN0Q8JlRpGmxC83U80eoQ).
> 
> This fic began as a little nugget of idea, then I planted the idea and tended to it with many months (too many, for something so short) of labour, and it grew into a beautiful fic tree. 
> 
> Life finds a way.

“Harry! Don’t run on the grass!”

Harry stopped mid-step, then turned to her mother. “It’s just grass, mum, come on.”

Anne tutted as she walked over. She fixed Harry’s dress affectionately.

“Normally I would agree with you, darling, but the Queen’s going to be walking through here for the Spring Festival and everyone’s been,” she paused, looking around before leaning in conspiratorially, “ _really fucking anal_ about everything being perfect.”

Harry snorted. “This is what you get for agreeing to be on the council.”

Anne laughed. “That’s enough out of you for today, young lady! Where were you off to in such a rush?”

Harry blushed, brushing away some loose curls that had escaped her braid. “I was just gonna go pick some flowers for my hair. You know, the good ones.”

Anne gave her a look. “Harry. We’ve talked about this. You can’t go outside the mountain. I don’t care if the flowers are better out there, or that you saw a really pretty butterfly, or whatever your latest excuse is. It’s Imbolc, just ask someone to borrow from their offering. Everyone’s got plenty this year.”

Harry huffed. “Fine, alright. But it’s only two weeks until I’m of age, you know. And then you won’t be able to stop me.” Her tone was joking, but her words couldn’t have been more serious.

Anne smiled sadly. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” She pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Off you go, then.”

Harry hugged her, then made her way (slowly—no grass was harmed) over to where she could see Gemma organising her offering.

“Hey Gems, can I borrow some flowers?” she called once she was within earshot.

Gemma turned a grumpy frown her way. “Yes, but why don’t you have her own?” She gave Harry a flat look. “Did you leave it too late this year again?”

Harry plucked a red tulip from Gemma’s neat pile. “Maybe,” she evaded, taking a delicate sniff.

Gemma sighed. “Harry…” she trailed off.

Harry didn’t want to hear it. “I hear the Seelie Queen’s coming to our Imbolc this year.”

If Gemma saw through the distraction tactic, she didn’t comment. “She rotates which village she visits every year. She was supposed to come two years ago, but…”

Harry tried not to wince. “Yeah.” She picked up another tulip—yellow, this time.

“Here,” said Gemma. She gathered some forget-me-nots, and a rainbow of tulips. “Take these.”

Harry took them gratefully.

“What braids are you picking for your coming of age?” Gemma asked.

Harry pursed her lips, eyes shifting to the side. “Love. And… hope.”

Gemma sighed again.

“Don’t,” Harry snapped.

Gemma held her hands up in surrender.

“Thank you for the flowers, Gems,” she said, softening.

Then, she turned away. She walked across the town centre, careful not to trample the grass. It was still young, dewey and green.

Sunlight drifted down from the opening at the top of the cavern, vines flowing down and birds flitting about. Harry passed the spring, overflowing with water from all the melting snow further up the mountain. She dipped a foot into the water as she passed, smiling at the children who were splashing around in the bathing area.

Everyone in the village was gathered in groups in the main cavern, the living areas spiralling out from the cavern walls around them. The villagers were either organising for the feast or gossiping about what blessing they might receive from Brigid this year. The East Village was blessed with a population of about 200, but there was room enough for far more.

Harry remembered from the stories she heard as a child that there used to be at least a thousand living here; the original ever-living ones, the _aes sidhe_.

That might have only been a few generations ago, but a generation for fae was an awfully long time.

Harry made her way down the hallway. The further she got from the main cavern, the darker it became. She was used to it, though. It was all she’d ever known.

Once she reached her room—softly lit by glowing worms on the wall—she collapsed onto her bed with a world-weary sigh.

As Harry’s deft fingers threaded through her hair to undo her loose fishtail, she looked about her small room. Her collections of dried flowers, gems and dresses were scattered around the floor. It was a comforting sort of mess. In the little nook by the doorway was her prized possession: a polaroid camera that she’d found in the woods outside almost a decade ago. There was only one photo left in it. She’d been saving it for years.

Her hair now loose and falling down to her waist, Harry moved to the spare bed she’d prepared for Brigid, picking up the pile of twigs lying there to start making her Brigid’s cross. As she wove the rushes together, she talked. It was a mumbling, ambling sort of speech; she didn’t really expect anyone to be listening.

“I know I don’t have any flowers for you, Brigid, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sure you understand. I set out lots of food for you, though! I hope you like your bed, and you give me a blessing. For my coming of age. Something other than fertility, please. I know that’s what you’re known for. I could… really use a blessing.”

Once she was done, she organised the cross on the bed, straightening all the bowls containing her offerings. Then, she began to braid her hair. It took all afternoon, because the special eight-strand knots she was making from her left and right temple were complicated, and so was the magic she was weaving into them. After much swearing, and a couple crushed flowers, she was done. It was tradition to choose two of five well-wishes for your life to braid into your hair for your coming of age. The beads that went with them had been passed down by her mother, and her mother’s mother. They would stay in her hair until her ceremony was complete.

There was a soft knock at the door, then Anne poked her head in.

“There you are, Harry! Come on, the festival’s starting!”

Harry followed her back to the main cavern, where small lights inside multi-coloured lanterns had been strung in a delightful criss-cross pattern. Imbolc was breathtaking every year, but this year was something else. Fae were milling about, eating from the feast table and chatting excitedly. Harry spotted Gemma amongst the group of musicians, her fiddle adding to the lively tune that was echoing around the cavern.

Harry made her way over to the feast table, taking an entire bunch of grapes. There was still plenty left, she justified to herself.

“Harry!” hissed an excited voice to her left.

Harry turned to see Bebe, dressed in glittering silks with violets in her hair.

“Hi, Bebe!” Harry smiled. She offered her a single grape.

Bebe snorted, but took it.

“Who do you think the Queen is gonna chose this year?” she asked, excited gaze flickering around the cavern.

Harry tilted her head in confusion. “For what?”

Bebe gaze her a flat look.

“For a raunchy night of sex, what do you think, Harry? The blessed divination, obviously!”

“Well, it’s definitely going to be you for both of those things,” Harry shot back.

Bebe preened. “You think so?” She winked.

Harry laughed and shoved her playfully. The music swelled grandly, and all eyes in the cavern turned upwards.

“She’s coming!” Bebe whispered.

Harry shushed her.

From the opening at the top of the cavern floated down a woman. The train of her golden dress reached the floor a good minute before she set down on two soft bare feet. Her hair was loose around her head, her dark skin contrasting beautifully with the shimmering fabric tightly adorning her frame. Her gaze was distant but not unkind, and the raw power that oozed from her very being was enough to make Harry’s arm hair stand on end.

She was beautiful. And terrifying.

Her three attendants joined her from the crowd, carefully organising her train into a neat swirl around where she stood. Everyone watched, rapt, as the queen clapped once. The sound echoed around the cavern, and the lanterns flickered.

“Let us welcome Brigid’s blessings this evening, and rejoice for a fertile year to come.”

Her voice was soft, but it carried.

The band started back up as soon as her proclamation was complete, everyone turning back to their feasting and merriment.

As was customary, all those of age started lining up to greet the Queen.

“Come on, Harry! Your ceremony’s only two weeks away, you’ve gotta meet her,” Bebe hissed, pulling on Harry’s hand.

Harry shoved the rest of the grapes into her mouth and followed.

They waited patiently in the queue, watching as everyone received a touch to the cheek and a whispered blessing from the Queen.

Some girls in front of Harry and Bebe were whispering excitedly to each other. Harry caught snippets of their words.

“Who do you think she’s gonna chose? I hope it’s—“

“No way! It’s gonna be—“

Harry tuned them out.

Eventually they reached the Queen. Bebe went first, practically melting at her touch.

“I bless you with peace and clarity,” the Queen said.

Bebe nodded gratefully, then stepped to the side.

Harry cleared her throat nervously as she stepped up, fighting the urge to fix her hair.

The Queen looked Harry over, gaze catching on the beads in her hair. It was more attention than Harry had seen her pay to anyone else so far.

“Your Majesty?” Harry greeted uncertainly.

The Queen’s hand moved suddenly to grip her chin, pulling her closer to examine her face. Without turning, she asked her ladies in waiting, “What do you think of this one?”

Harry didn’t move. Or blink. She wasn’t sure she remembered how.

“She seems scared,” the one in blue answered. Her blonde hair was piled precariously on top of her head.

“I think she’s perfect,” supplied another. She was wearing a deep pink. All of the maiden’s dresses were loose and flowing, leaving their breasts exposed. It was a nice contrast to the skin-tightness of the Queen’s garb.

The last one hummed in disagreement. She flicked some of her wavy hair over her shoulder judgmentally. “Are you sure, Highness?”

The queen released Harry’s chin. She nodded decisively. “It’s her.”

Harry was about to stammer out something that would definitely have embarrassed her, but the Queen clapped. It echoed around the chamber just as before, and everyone stood to attention.

“I have made my choice! This child will receive my blessing for this year’s Imbolc divination. May Brigid give her sight.”

“May Brigid give her sight,” echoed all present. The words bounced around the cavern, ringing with finality in Harry’s ears.

The Queen turned her weighted gaze to Harry, making note of her stunned silence.

Bebe elbowed Harry.

“Th-Thank you, my Queen,” Harry rushed out.

She nodded, then gestured to her maidens. They moved fluidly to surround Harry, walking her over to the centre of the cavern where the well had been opened for Imbolc. It was only about a metre and a half wide, hewn straight downwards through the rock of the cavern’s floor. Harry didn’t know how deep it was, but it’s occasional overflowing resulted in the soil around it bursting with life.

It definitely wasn’t overflowing right now. Harry gulped.

The one in pink pushed at Harry’s shoulders gently. Harry knelt obediently in front of the small opening. The grass was wet on her bare calves.

She took in the opening of the well, wide-eyed. In the soft light of the lanterns the blackness of its depths was rendered terrifying.

Harry looked up, meeting her mother’s eyes in the gathering crowd. Gemma was still busy playing with the band, but the music was softer now.

“What is she waiting for?” hissed one of the Queen’s attendants.

“Go on, darling,” pressed another.

Harry placed her hands on the edge of the well. The water was about two metres down.

Harry leant further over the hole. She breathed the crisp scent of the mountain water. She could barely make out her reflection in the utterly still surface. For a moment, it seemed something was in the water.

She leant further still. The sounds of the cavern faded into the back of her mind as she peered downwards.

Forgetting why it might be a bad idea, Harry moved one of her hands off the edge to try and reach the water. Her fingers extended out searchingly. She had only gotten her ring finger to the waterline—not even breaking the surface tension—when she felt her other hand slip.

She plummeted headfirst into the well.

Before she could process the shock of her fall, she was suddenly… Gone.

Or… perhaps it was the well that had gone.

What surrounded her now was a comforting, full darkness. It wrapped around her warmly, whispering words that she couldn’t quite hear.

Then, she was in a field. The sun was beating down on her, and there were bees flitting about pollinating the flowers.

She turned her face into the sun. She’d been here before, she knew this place well; it was just outside the mountain, a meadow that she used to visit all the time with…

“Come on, Hazza, we’ve gotta get back before the festival!”

Harry turned in shock. Standing in front of her was a girl. She had long brown hair held back with a leather band. Her eyes were as blue as the hyacinths that littered the meadow. She was only a young thing, but she was already so beautiful.

“Come on, Harry!” she cried, gripping Harry’s hand and tugging her back to their secret exit, the one they’d discovered together.

 _Together._ Because Harry knew this girl. She remembered her. It was likely she would never be able to forget.

The memory faded before they reached the mountain.

Harry was still in the meadow, but it was dark this time.

She looked around. Snow had claimed the forest, all the trees barren and lifeless. A branch snapped behind her. She whipped around.

“Did you mean it, Harry,” the girl asked, hope shining from her face like starlight. She was much older, now, but she was still young. So young.

Harry tried to reach for her, but her hands met air.

“I need to know if you meant it. Please. It’s okay if you didn’t, I just….”

Harry’s heart broke all over again.

The girl wiped her eyes and smiled sadly, like she was waiting for a death sentence but she wanted her executioner to know she forgave them.

Then, Harry was somewhere else. It was a room unlike any she’d ever been in before. It was _human_.

There were white walls, tables, chairs, windows, and... people.

Three girls were piled onto a couch watching a screen on the wall. Harry had learned about all of these things, seen drawings and heard stories.

The stories paled in comparison to the real thing. Harry looked around in wonder, noticing the view from the window. It was a city. A real, human city with its tall structures, loud noises, and awful metallic everything.

“Are we headed out soon, lads?” came a voice.

Harry’s eyes widened. She turned, and there was the girl again.

She was standing in the doorway, looking at Harry.

 _No,_ Harry realised; she was looking _through_ Harry.

She wasn’t wearing clothes Harry recognised anymore, and her hair was...

Her hair was _gone._

It was cropped short around her face, a soft fringe falling just above her eyes. It made her look both softer and harsher.

Harry tried to move towards her, but her feet were glued to the ground; no amount of tugging would budge them.

So, Harry remained where she was, drinking in every detail of her. This was older than Harry had ever seen her, this was _new._

Harry struggled again to get closer to her, but the more she tried the further she sank into the ground.

Then the vision was gone as she was pulled downwards harshly with a sharp tug. She took a gasping breath in as she broke the surface of the water.

Hands were all over her body, pulling her out then laying her on the ground and patting her down. She blinked up at the ceiling in a daze, trying to breathe evenly.

She was back in the cavern.

“Harry?” Bebe’s face appeared over her, frowning in concern. Anne was hovering nervously over her shoulder.

Harry sat up.

“Are you alright, darling?” Anne asked.

Harry nodded mutely.

“What did you see?”

Harry turned towards the attendant who had spoken. It was the one in blue. Her torso was soaked—looking around, Harry realised all of the maiden’s were. Harry, oddly, was completely dry.

“I saw…” Harry started, then had to stop to clear her throat.

The Queen appeared to Harry’s left. She gazed down at Harry in consideration, raising her brows for Harry to continue.

“I saw Louis,” Harry said honestly. “She’s alive.”

There was a heavy silence that followed her words.

Once of the maidens stood to whisper something in the Queen’s ear.

Her expression remained as stoic as ever.

“Harry,” she said.

Harry pushed herself to her feet, then bowed deferentially. It was hard to bow to someone a good head shorter than you, but Harry was used to being taller than people who were bigger than her in other ways.

“I’ve been told your coming of age is in two weeks.”

Harry nodded.

“It seems Brigid has given you a task to complete. You will do so before your ceremony.”

There was no room for argument in her tone.

Harry looked up, wide-eyed.

The Queen met her gaze. “What is your task, child?”

Harry took a deep breath, frowning.

“I think…” she started. “I think I have to bring her back.”

“Harry—“ Anne started from behind. She was silenced by one look from the Queen.

“I will wait in your village for your return. If you cannot complete your task, then…”

Harry nodded. Though she had not finished, the Queen’s meaning was very clear; the price of failure was banishment.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Louis had been Harry’s best friend for as long as she could remember. Louis had been there as she grew up. She was a shoulder to cry on, a head of hair to practice braiding on, a mind as mischievous as Harry’s to scheme up antics and pranks with, someone to fall asleep next to when the nights were cold or when they got lonely. Someone to dance with, to learn with, to laugh with.

They were girls together.

Then Louis left.

“Harry, you don’t have to do this.” Anne’s voice was gentle but her gaze was firm.

Harry didn’t pause in her packing. She only had one bag and she’d never been very good at weaving so it had more than a few holes, but it would get her where she needed to go.

She folded some spare dresses into it neatly, wrapping them around her polaroid camera for safe-keeping.

“That’s not true, mum. You know it’s not.”

Anne sighed.

Harry looked up. “Mum. It’s okay. I’m coming back.”

She pulled her into a hug. “That’s not what I’m worried about, dear,” she sighed again into Harry’s hair. “The human world is very different, it’s dangerous, and Louis…”

Harry pulled away. Anne trailed off. Harry averted her gaze.

“I know that she’s alive and she’s living with humans. That’s more than I’ve known for two years, mum. I have to go.”

Anne nodded reluctantly.

In the doorway, Gemma knocked softly. “When are you leaving, Harry?”

Harry sniffed. “In the morning. It’s too late to go tonight, but I’ll be gone before anyone wakes up. I don’t have the time to waste.”

Gemma smiled sadly. “Come on, mum, let’s let her get some rest.”

Anne kissed Harry on the cheek. “Good luck, baby.”

Harry bit back tears.

“I’m coming back,” she repeated forcefully, looking between the two most important people in her life.

Gemma nodded, but Harry didn’t think she really believed her.

“Good luck, sis.”

Anne gathered herself to add, “And when you find that girl, give her a slap over the head then a big hug from me.”

Harry snorted sadly and nodded.

Then they were gone.

Harry collapsed onto her bed. She’d expected to have a restless night with hardly any sleep, but the divination had taken a lot out of her. With only a few sad sniffles into her pillow she was out for the night.

When she woke, it was still dark. She sat up, her heart beating heavily in her chest. She looked around, trying to find what had woken her. There, on the other side of her room. It was a shape sitting on the spare mattress she’d set out for Brigid.

Harry gazed at it curiously. It was a sort of absence of light, but now that she’d woken it no longer felt threatening. In fact, it felt comforting. The glow worms on the walls didn’t seem scared either.

Harry moved towards it, and in an instant it was gone. So was the Brigid’s cross she’d hung above the doorway. Harry looked back at where it had been.

On the mattress where it had perched lay a piece of paper.

Harry crawled over to it curiously. It was a photograph, like the ones her polaroid camera made. It was of Louis and the other three human girls Harry remembered from her vision.

Their faces were all stuffed into the shot, barely enough room for the brightness of their smiles. On the back was written three neat lines.

 

_28 Victoria Rd,_

_Unit 7,_

_Camden, London._

 

Harry had no idea what it could mean.

 

❧❧❧

 

The meadow was exactly as she remembered it. She hadn’t been back in two years, but nothing had changed except that perhaps the grass was a bit longer.

She took a deep breath in, savouring the crisp dawn air. Her bag was strung over her shoulder, and she’d wrapped her braids into a bun. She was wearing a sweater that Bebe had helped her knit last winter, rainbow and strung through with beads. The air still had a bite to it this early into Spring, but Harry forgot all about her cold feet as she soaked in the first rays of dawn.

She took one last look over her shoulder into the darkness of the passage. She’d left before anyone had arisen, like she’d promised. It was easier, this way, to avoid everyone’s insincere well-wishes.

The first step she took into the meadow lifted a weight off her chest she hadn’t realised she’d been feeling. The damp dirt had a soft give to it, so different from the hardened turf in the cavern.

She smiled.

She started walking.

An hours’ trek into the woods, her good mood had been somewhat tarnished.

“What am I doing?” she asked a beech tree as she passed.

To a curious squirrel, she said, “I don’t even know where I’m going. There’s lots of human cities, right? Where is London?”

The squirrel squeaked and run away. Harry huffed.

She took out the photo from where she’d been keeping it in the small pocket over her heart. She’d meant to take another look at the mysterious words, but her gaze was instead caught on Louis’ smile.

“She’ll want to come back,” she reassured a nearby sparrow. The sparrow lighted on her hair and Harry felt it pluck a few of the drying flowers from her braid.

“She will!” Harry said again.

The sparrow flew off, flowers held in its beak.

After another long hour, Harry reached a road. It was an awful grey colour, cracking and unnatural. It felt _wrong_ beneath Harry’s feet. This road represented the farthest anyone Harry knew had ever been from the mountain.

Except Louis.

They’d grown up to stories from the older fae in the village, stories about travelling all over the country and beyond, stealing children and causing mischief. As time passed and humans grew intolerant of their games, the travelling stopped. The four villages were all that remained of the Ever Living Ones, so far as any of them knew. And none alive had ventured very far, when all they needed to live happy long lives was at their fingertips.

What was currently at Harry’s fingertips was a hideous grey rock. She pressed her hand harder onto the road, trying to feel its magic. Everything had magic, no matter how faint.

When she felt the smallest hum from the road she smiled at it.

“Ok,” Harry said to it. “Take me to Louis.”

Nothing happened.

“Why did I think that would work,” Harry sighed. She’d always been shit at persuasion magic, and normally she was trying it on rabbits and the village cows, not human-rock.

She stood up in defeat. Then, she tilted her head. The road was rumbling beneath her feet. Harry clapped excitedly, thinking it had worked after all. Then, a car came into view.

“Shit!” Harry hissed, leaping back off the road. She knew _of_ cars; she’d just never seen one.

“Hi! Hello! Can you help me!” she called, waving her hands frantically.

The car slowed to a crawl. It was an old-looking thing, dirty and beat up. Harry could make out four humans inside.

The car pulled up next to Harry, and the driver’s side window rolled down.

“Need a ride?” asked the driver. She was friendly-looking, with soft blonde hair and a very colourful dress on. Her companions were dressed in similarly loud clothing, garish patterns and frills everywhere.

Harry liked them instantly.

“Yes, actually!” Harry beamed. “I’m Harry, and I’m going here.”

She thrust the polaroid into the driver’s face, leaving her to pull back and blink in confusion for a second. Then, she smiled.

“Oh, cool, London! That’s where we’re headed, too!”

The man sitting in the passenger’s seat blinked at Harry indifferently. “Are you an axe-murderer?” he asked.

“Mitch!” hissed the driver. The man shrugged at her.

Harry frowned in confusion. “No? I don’t have an axe?”

There was a snort from the backseat, then the back door was thrown open.

“Come on in, then!” called a voice. Harry slid in carefully, trying not to look like this was completely new to her.

“Harry, this is Sarah and Adam,” introduced the driver, gesturing to the other humans in the backseat with Harry. They smiled and waved politely. “That’s Mitch,” continued the driver, and Mitch raised the bottle he was drinking from in greeting, “and I’m Clare!”

Harry smiled at each of them. “Nice to meet you.”

Sarah passed her an opened pack of salted peanuts. “Same to you!”

Harry crunched on some nuts as Clare pulled back onto the road.

“Are you gonna put your seatbelt on, Harry?” asked Adam in concern. Harry frowned at him uncomprehendingly.

He gestured to the device that was attaching him to the seat.

“Oh!” Harry laughed, “yes, of course!”

She grabbed the clip and pulled it across her, then (out of view of the others) glared at the little plastic thing the other little metal thing went into. “How do you work?” She whispered at it darkly, stabbing them together a few times.

“What was that, Harry?” Sarah asked.

“What? Nothing,” Harry rushed out, making a noise of satisfaction when the belt clicked into place.

“She’s really weird,” Harry heard Mitch say to Clare.

“So are you, Mitch, shut up,” shot back Sarah.

Harry laughed. Maybe getting to London wouldn’t be so hard after all.

She was right, of course. By the time they arrived in greater London three hours later, Harry had her feet in Adam’s lap and her hands in Sarah’s hair. She was regaling the car with a very long, very convoluted story of the first time she’d accidentally braided her hair into her dress, and she hadn’t even noticed how sick the movement of the car was making her for a good twenty minutes (new record).

Harry had learned that the humans were in a band together, which was exciting because Harry loved music. She didn’t understand a word they had to say about their musical influences, but Harry got the impression they were very invested in their craft.

“Hey, Harry, whereabouts do you want us to drop you off?” Clare asked. Harry looked out the window, taking in the sights. It wasn’t at all as impressive as she’d been picturing. London was just… people, and gross-looking buildings, and not nearly enough trees.

“Umm…” Harry trailed off.

“You have somewhere to stay, right?” Sarah asked as she tied off the milkmaid’s braid Harry had just finished.

Harry pulled the polaroid out and frowned down at it. “I think so.”

Adam tutted. “Here,” he said, pulling the photo out of Harry’s grasp gently. He wrote down another three lines like the ones already on the back, but with different words.

“Our address,” he said, passing it back to Harry. “In case you need anything.”

Harry blinked at the words, then shot a dazzling smile around the car. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Clare reached a hand into the back and patted Harry’s knee awkwardly. “I’m just going to drop you off at a train station, yeah? We’ve gotta be at rehearsals soon, so we can’t take you all the way to where you’re going.”

Harry was already nodding. “That’s fine, really. You’ve all been so wonderful.”

Mitch turned around in his seat. They hadn’t really exchanged many words, so Harry was surprised when he reached into his pocket and presented her with something.

It was a small plastic rectangle with a picture of some birds on it. “You can take my oyster card,” he said.

Harry took it. “Um.”

Mitch snorted. “Its for the train, genius.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” Harry replied.

Clare pulled over onto the shoulder of a road. There was grime everywhere, and rubbish. It didn’t look that different to everywhere else in London that she’d seen so far.

“Well…” Clare said. “Train station’s just up there.”

Harry nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her bag over her shoulder.

“Thank you all so much,” Harry said. “Really.”

She received four fond smiles.

Harry walked up onto the pavement, waving as Clare pulled back onto the road. She stared after the car until it was out of sight, then sighed.

“Alright, Harry, get it together,” she told herself sternly. “Trains! They’re just long cars!”

She started walking to the station, careful where she stepped with her bare feet—there was broken glass all over. Harry made a face at the ground. She missed dirt.

When she got to the station, she hung back. She watched as someone else walked up to the small gate and pressed their plastic against a circle, then walked through.

She copied the action, smiling smugly to herself as she stepped down onto the platform.

Being human wasn’t so hard.

Next, she checked the polaroid again. “Camden,” she said to herself.

A glance at one of the screens told her there would be a train arriving in 5 minutes that would stop in Camden. Now, she just had to wait in this smelly awful tunnel.

She shuffled her feet, picked at her nails, shuffled her feet some more.

Her impatience drew the gaze of some of the humans on the platform. Harry just nodded and smiled at them. This seemed to confuse them more, but no one bothered her.

When the train arrived, it was much… _screechier_ than Harry had been prepared for. It pulled to a stop achingly slowly and the doors slid open. The lighting inside was thin and awful, and everything smelled like stale feet.

“Brigid, why have you cursed me,” Harry mumbled as she climbed onto the train.

Luckily, she didn’t have to spend too long on it. When the doors opened for Camden station she practically run out of them. She took the steps up to the street two at a time, taking a deep breath when she broke out into fresh air.

She’d even remembered to press the stupid plastic thing to the other stupid plastic thing.

Now, she just had to find Louis’ house. Or… flat. Whatever.

It only took stopping a few people to ask for directions before Harry was standing on the street facing Number 28. It was a tall, new building, shining in the midday sun.

Harry’s feet were sore, and her head was a mess from all the stress of the day, and her bag was getting heavy, but. She still couldn’t seem to make herself go in.

She stared down at the photo for a few minutes, then at the building.

“She’ll want to come back,” Harry said. It sounded like the lie that it was, this time.

Harry took a deep breath. She walked up to the door and turned the handle. It was locked.

“Well! I tried!” Harry laughed hysterically. “I’ll just go home, and the Queen will forgive me, and…” Harry trailed off.

She shook herself. There was no going back, especially not when she was so close.

She looked around, trying to spot another way in. Next to the door, she spotted a small box attached to the wall. It had a bunch of numbers on it next to little buttons. Harry looked down at the polaroid again, then at the box.

She pressed a shaking finger to number seven. For a few disappointing moments, nothing happened. Then:

“Hello?” A tinny voice asked from the box.

Harry jumped back. “Um..” She said, looking around the street.

“Can I help you, mate?” asked the voice. It sounded Irish.

“Yes, actually.” Harry gulped. “I’m looking for Louis?”

There was a beat of silence. “Louis.”

Harry nibbled on her finger. “Yes?” she tried.

The door opened.

Harry looked between the box and the door, then went inside.

Unit 7 was only on the third floor, so the climb wasn’t too strenuous. The soft carpet of the hallway was comforting against her sore feet. The flickering light above her was not as comforting.

She knocked. She waited.

The door was pulled open painfully slowly. A face appeared in the crack, then a torso and legs. It was a woman; one of the humans from the photo.

She had short brown hair and blue-grey eyes. She was wearing a comfortable-looking ensemble: a striped shirt and jeans.

“Hi!” Harry said brightly. She waved, then frowned at her hand. Was waving normal with humans? Was that old fashioned?

The woman in the door snorted. “Hi yourself, mate. Nice jumper.”

Harry smoothed a hand down her tummy. “Thank you, I made it myself.”

“You don’t say,” she responded drily. Harry frowned, unsure if she was being insulted.

“So you’re here for Louis, you say?” she asked abruptly.

Harry nodded. “Is she here?”

The woman scratched at her cheek. “Sure,” she said.

Harry raised her eyebrows. “Okay? Then may I see her, please?”

She ignored her question. “Who are you?”

Harry panicked. “I’m a human.”

The woman narrowed her eyes.

Harry laughed uncomfortably.

“Niall, who is—oh.” Another woman appeared behind the first. She pulled the door open a little more, and Harry could see behind them into the apartment. It looked exactly as it did in her vision.

“Hello!” the second woman said. She had a friendly sort of face, with long brown hair, baggy clothes, and very bright shoes.

“Hi! I’m Harry,” said Harry.

“She’s here for Louis,” the first woman—Niall—said.

The second woman frowned. “Our Louis?”

“No, someone else’s Louis,” Niall rolled her eyes. The second woman poked her in the stomach.

“Well, come on in then! She’s around here somewhere. Sleeping still, probably.”

The second woman pushed Niall out of the doorway, letting Harry step through into the flat. Harry took everything in. There was yet another woman sitting on the couch, reclining leisurely and smoking something.

“Sup,” she greeted. Then, she giggled. “Nice jumper.”

Harry frowned. “Thanks,” she said.

“Harry, right?” asked the woman who wasn’t Niall. “I’m Liam, that’s Zayn.”

Zayn saluted her lazily.

“I’ll go get Louis,” said Niall, disappearing into one of the many doors branching from the main area.

“So, Harry,” Zayn said. Liam sat next to her on the couch, leaving Harry standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. It felt a little bit like being summoned before the council back home, except this time she wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. “Is there a reason you aren’t wearing shoes?”

Harry looked down at her feet, then up at Liam and Zayn. “Um…” she said, struggling to come up with something. It’s not like she could just say she didn’t own any—that would definitely be suspicious. Humans loved their shoes, for some reason.

Luckily, she was saved by the noise of the door Niall had gone through opening.

“Niall, there better be a reason you’ve woken me up. You know I worked late last night, and yes I’m stunning but I also need my beauty sleep _sometimes–_ “ came a voice.

Harry’s breath caught in her throat.

Louis turned from where she’d been talking over her shoulder, a tired grin still gracing her lips. When she caught sight of Harry, she froze.

“Hi, Louis,” Harry forced out.

There was a second where Harry imagined everything would sort itself out; Louis would smile and wrap her in her arms, she’d say 'thank god you found me, Harry, I can't wait to come home with you away from these awful humans,’ and everything would be fine. Everything would be like it was supposed to be.

Then, Louis’ gaze hardened. She turned back around, shoved Niall out of her room, and slammed the door shut.

Harry wilted under the the weight of Niall, Liam and Zayn’s questioning looks. Her curse of a broken heart hadn't magically been lifted, it seemed.

Niall knocked on the door with a wary sort of puzzlement. “Lou?” she called.

“Fuck off!” Louis snapped back.

Harry couldn’t help herself; she snorted. That was definitely her Louis in there, if there was ever any doubt.

“Do you want me to get rid of her?” Niall asked to the door.

Everyone waited with baited breath for the answer. Or perhaps it was just Harry who was so invested in the answer. If Louis said yes now, then she really was out of options.

And out of a home.

The door was wrenched open. Harry took the time to take in every detail of Louis. Her hair was as short as it was in her vision, fluffy from sleep. She was also smaller than Harry remembered. Maybe Harry was just bigger.

Her eyes, her ears, her hands, every part of her was so familiar. But... she’d never looked at Harry like this, like she wanted Harry to be anywhere but here. Harry blinked back tears.

“How did you find me,” she bit out. Niall moved to sit next to the other girls on the couch, all of them watching the proceedings unfold like children at story time.

Harry nibbled her finger nervously. Louis’ gaze caught on the action.

“Um...” Harry started, looking between Louis and the couch. Louis followed her gaze.

“Girls,” she said with sickening sweetness. “Can you give us a minute.”

“Yeah, of course!” Liam replied, pulling Niall and Zayn out of the flat. “We’ll be back in five!”

“Don’t forget keys, you wankers!” Louis called after them. A hand reached around the nearly closed door, snatching a set from the small table next to it.

Then it slammed shut.

“Talk.” Louis said.

Harry gulped. She opened her mouth—perhaps to explain, perhaps to beg that Louis come home—but all that came out was a mournful, “you cut your hair.”

Harry saw a flash of insecurity on Louis’ face before it hardened again. “Yeah. I did.”

Harry nodded. “It looks nice,” she offered. As sad as she was that Louis’ beautiful locks were gone, it _did_ look nice.

Louis sighed. Her face was still stony, but now Harry could see the tiredness underneath. “Why are you here, Harry?”

At least she didn’t sound angry anymore.

She looked Louis over, her crossed arms and closed off expression. She knew at once that there was no way she could tell Louis she was here to bring her back. At least, not at first. A Louis who wasn’t happy to see Harry was not a Louis desperate to come home.

“My coming of age is soon,” Harry started slowly. Louis’ eyes widened slightly at the news, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that Harry had been getting older while she was gone. “And the Queen chose me for the blessed divination.” Harry took a step closer to Louis, glad to see she didn’t flinch back. “And Brigid’s sight showed me where you were.”

It wasn’t all she’d been shown, but Louis didn’t need to know that.

Louis processed her words for a long moment, frowning at the wall behind Harry’s head.

“Well,” she started. She licked her lips unconsciously, and Harry’s eyes tracked the motion. “Are you hungry?”

It wasn’t at all what Harry had been expecting to hear. Then again, maybe she should have. Louis had always been great at deflecting.

Harry blinked owlishly a few times.

“Yes.” she said. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

Louis nodded, then gestured to the kitchen table. “Sit down, I’ll make you something.”

“You’ll make me something? Louis, you’re worse in the kitchen than a starved pigeon,” Harry joked, trying to break the ice. She still remembered Louis’ failed cooking experiments growing up.

When Louis laughed the sound was hollow, wrong. Harry flinched.

“Yeah, well, a lot’s changed,” she said.

Harry took a seat at the table, watching Louis open some cupboards and pull out various ingredients completely foreign to Harry. There was a horrible awkwardness between them, one that had never been there before. It was full of all the words Harry wanted to say but couldn’t, full of two years worth of grief and longing. Harry took some small comfort in the fact that Louis didn’t seem unaffected by it.

“Would you mind if my flatmates came back in?” Louis asked distantly as she fiddled with the stove.

It wasn’t really a question Harry could say no to, but… “How much do they know?”

Louis gave her a sharp look. “Nothing,” she snapped, “and you’re not gonna change that, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“Alright, fuckheads, you can come back in!” Louis yelled, turning back to the strange vegetable she was chopping.

The door burst open instantly, as if the girls had been listening on the other side.

“Tommo! You’re making dinner! Willingly!” Liam exclaimed with excitement.

“Piss off,” Louis replied.

Niall pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheek on her way to sit at the table, and Liam and Zayn copied her.

Louis blushed under the affection, then threw an onion at them.

Zayn cackled and ducked, so it ended up hitting Harry square in the chest.

“Oof,” she said, wincing.

“Shit, are you okay?” Louis asked.

Harry smiled at her. Louis didn’t smile back, but the worry in her eyes was genuine.

Maybe Harry had a chance after all. Even if it was a tiny one.

“So… Harry.” Niall started.

“Yes?” Harry stopped rubbing her chest.

“How do you know our Louis.” She pointed an accusatory finger at Harry, and even though it was obvious from her tone he was joking, Harry still shuffled nervously.

“Umm… We grew up together?”

Niall’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so.”

“Stop interrogating her, for fuck’s sake lad,” Louis huffed.

Niall sat back in her chair. “But Louis,” she whined, tilting her head up, “you never tell us about your past!”

Liam patted Niall on the shoulder sympathetically. “Best to leave it, mate,” she muttered.

“Liam, you’re my favourite now.” Louis declared. She presented her with a piece of raw green vegetable like it was a prize she’d won. Liam took it reverently then placed it on her head like a ceremonial wreath.

Harry watched the interaction with the same fascination she did watching two finches fight, or a frog that was struggling to get up onto a lily pad.

“So what are you making, Lou?” Zayn interrupted, eyeing the steaming pan on the stove with suspicion.

“Stir fry,” Louis answered.

Zayn hummed interestedly. Harry tried to look like she knew what that was.

“Here,” Louis said, spooning portions into five bowls. “S’ready.”

Harry sniffed at the bowl Louis placed in front of her, poking it curiously. It didn’t look too dissimilar to food she’d grown up eating, but there was considerably more oil involved than she was used to.

Niall cheered when hers was set down, instantly digging in. Liam and Zayn offered more reserved—but no less sincere—thank yous.

Louis fixed her fringe, preening. “Well it’s hardly a four course meal, calm down,” she evaded, taking a seat.

Harry caught her gaze. “Thanks,” she said, as earnestly as she could manage. There was a significance to sharing your meal with someone, where they came from.

Louis shrugged, looking away.

Harry ate her food as she watched Louis interact with the three humans, throwing jokes around like she used to with Harry. There was something more reserved about her now, though. She seemed… at peace. In the moments in between being paid attention to, she didn’t exclaim theatrically like she once would have to get the spotlight back. Instead, she was content to just exist by herself for a time.

It was a side of Louis that Harry only used to see when they were alone, and never around a group this large.

Harry tried not to think about what that meant, about how much Louis must trust these girls.

It only took about ten minutes for everyone’s plates to be scraped clean. Louis wasn’t kidding about having gotten better at cooking, and the strange concoction she’d made was genuinely delicious.

“So, Harry,” Zayn said, turning to Harry. It was the first time she'd been addressed since the meal had started. “How long are you in town for?”

Harry blinked. “Two weeks.”

Louis pursed her lips for a few long moments, looking like she was deep in thought about something particularly putrid.

“Excuse us for a second please,” she said tightly.

In unison all four of the girls stood and walked from the room. It was a little bit creepy.

Harry stood too and started clearing the table—she was a guest, after all—and strained her ears to listen to the whispers coming from the bedroom the girls and Louis had shut themselves in.

“Is there anywhere else she can stay?” That was Liam, Harry was sure.

“She doesn’t know anyone in London, Li,” Louis replied.

There was a pause.

“Well I’m fine with kicking her out anyway if you’re good with that,” said Niall.

“Seems a bit cruel to me,” said Zayn. “What even happened with you two, Lou? You’re tiptoeing around her like you fucked her sister or something.”

There was a smacking noise.

“Ow,” said Zayn.

“It’s your call, Louis,” said Liam.

Harry paused in her washing up, listening intently.

Suddenly, the door opened. Harry flailed a little, rushing to pretend like she hadn’t heard any of that.

“Harry,” barked Louis.

Harry turned slowly, still holding a soapy plate. The force of Louis’ glare made Harry raise it slightly in front of herself, like the world’s smallest shield.

“Would you. Like. To stay. On. The couch.” Louis bit out, looking like she’d sucked a lime.

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes! Please!”

Louis huffed. “Well. You can start by putting the plate down.”

Harry did so bashfully.

Louis disappeared into her room for a second, coming out with an armful of pillows and blankets.

“Here,” she said, dumping them unceremoniously onto the couch at the back of the main room. Now that Harry got a good look at it, it looked quite decrepit. There was stuffing coming out in various places, and springs poking out of the side, and it didn’t look comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.

Harry had a brief, painful longing for the soft, downy bed in her room.

She smiled widely. “Thank you, this is wonderful.”

Louis squinted at her in suspicion. “You’re welcome.”

Harry took a seat on the couch, organising the pillows on one end.

“Well…” she trailed off, looking at the four pairs of eyes watching her intently. “I guess I’ll just go to sleep, then?”

Louis nodded. “Yep. Sounds good. We’ll just be in our rooms. If you need anything… it can wait until morning.”

Harry winced. Louis pushed the girls in the direction of their bedrooms pointedly.

“Night, Harry!” called Liam.

Harry smiled at her gratefully. One by one, they retreated into their rooms.

Louis hung back a little in her doorway to the left of Harry, fixing her fringe nervously.

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry said softly.

Louis looked pained, then she shut the door firmly.

Harry sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry woke up the next morning, she felt a brief flash of panic before she had even opened her eyes. The lumpy couch beneath her was so unfamiliar to the bed she’d slept on for the past seventeen years, and every smell and noise around her was utterly strange.

She calmed when she remembered where she was, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes. She was met with a water-stained ceiling and a Louis.

Harry blinked. “Good morning, Lou,” she rumbled, sleep-worn.

Louis was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table next to the couch, wearing baggy bedclothes and crunching loudly on a strange grain and milk concoction that smelled pungently sweet. Harry could have sworn her eyes glazed over for a moment when Harry spoke, but she shook it off faster than Harry could process it.

“Morning!” she replied with fake brightness and a mouth full of food.

Harry rubbed a lazy hand over her eyes, half convinced she was still asleep. “What are you eating?”

Louis waved a spoon at Harry. “It’s this human thing called cereal. Well… This bowl is about five different ones mixed together, but it just tastes better that way.” She took a large mouthful to punctate her point.

Harry scrunched her nose up.

There was a sudden slamming noise from elsewhere in the apartment. Apparently, one of the girls had awoken. Louis looked over her shoulder for a second, the turned back with a sombre expression.  

“Harry,” she started, visibly steeling herself. “Why are you here? Really?”

Harry missed being asleep. “Um.”

“I know you said Brigid showed you where I was. I get that part. But… You know I’m not coming back, right?” Louis’ tone was an odd mix of firm and pleading.

Harry pulled herself into a sitting position, blanket falling away. Louis’ gaze snapped to her bare breasts (Harry slept naked, that much hadn’t changed since Louis had left), then away again quickly.

“Before I saw you in my vision, I thought you were dead,” whispered Harry. It wasn’t really an answer to Louis’ question, but it was all Harry could afford to give her. “We all did.”

Louis looked stricken.

“Did you not think of that?” Harry asked, suddenly angry. “Did you not think of me and my grief while you were off living your new human life?”

Louis’ gaze turned to stone. “If you think for one minute that—“

They were interrupted (of fucking course) by the door to Niall’s room bursting open.

“GOOoood morning ladies! What’s goi— Wow, Harry, put those away before you poke someone’s eye out!” Niall cried, covering her eyes dramatically.

Harry frowned down at her boobs in confusion—was it not normal for humans to be bare-chested amongst friends?

She looked up just in time to catch the look Louis was shooting Niall. If any glare had the power to rip someone’s head off, it would be this glare.

Niall escaped into the kitchen.

Louis watched her go shrewdly, then sighed. She put her bowl of cereal down on the table with a heavy _clunk_.

“I have to go, Harry. I have work in an hour,” Louis said, much softer than before. There was still a trace of anger on her face, so Harry didn’t push.

She did run a frustrated hand down her face, though. She’d already wasted one day out of fourteen, and now it didn’t look like she’d make much progress today either.

The movement caught Louis’ eye, then her gaze traveled to Harry’s hair.

“What–“ she said, reaching forward and catching Harry’s left beaded braid in her hand. Harry froze as Louis inspected it carefully, then moved to the one on the other side. How could she have forgotten she’d let her hair down last night?

“Aren’t these…” Louis trailed off, a question in her eyes. She saw the moment Louis recognised the bead’s meanings. Her entire face went blank.

Harry avoided her gaze, mumbling to the floor, “my coming of age braids,” even though Louis had already figured that out.

Louis was dead silent for a moment, then she cleared her throat.

“Well, whoever your intended is, they’re very lucky,” she bit out.

Harry snapped her head up, frowning. “No, Louis–“

But Louis was already standing, ignoring Harry’s protests.

Niall came back of out the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea. The first she presented to Louis—it was a sealed mug meant for travel—and the second she offered Harry with an apologetic smile.

Harry couldn’t make herself smile back, but she accepted the tea.

Louis took a swig from hers, moaned, then pinched Niall’s hip. “Thanks, lad,” she said fondly, already retreating back into her room to get ready to leave. She didn’t give Harry a second glance. Even when she said nothing, Louis couldn’t help being loud.

Niall watched her go with a smile, then turned to Harry.

“I’ve got the day off today, do you wanna come shopping with me?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Harry stretched and stood. “Sure.”

Niall made a choked noise. “I’ll just…” she said, backtracking towards her room. “Get you some clothes.”

Harry shrugged. “Thanks.”

 

❧❧❧

 

Shopping, apparently, meant travelling in Niall’s car to a large market with awful, unnatural lighting, then staring at two different coloured versions of the same thing for five minutes while Harry tried not to melt in boredom.

“Just pick one!” she snapped after the third time Niall had changed her mind about which sort of milk to buy.

Niall just laughed at her.

Harry huffed. At least pushing the cart was fun, even if she wasn’t allowed to ride in it for some silly reason.

Finally, they made it to the checkout. Harry helped load all the food—so much food! Why did they need so much food?

While Niall paid, Harry distracted herself by making silly faces at a baby behind her in the queue. She’d always been fascinated by babies, which were a rare occurrence back in her village.

“Harry, come on!” Niall called.

Harry waved at the baby one last time, nodded politely at it’s parent, then followed Niall out back into the car area. Where the cars were.

See? Harry was flawless at this whole ‘being human’ business. Day 2 and she was nailing it. Everything was fine.

“Can you help me load the groceries or what? Weirdo,” Niall laughed, struggling to shove three bags in the back of the car. The benefit of this strange outing was that somewhere between Harry fiddling with the radio on the way to the shops and her excitement at the vegetable section, Niall had warmed up to her.

Harry rolled her eyes, picked up the rest of the bags. Niall watched, entranced, as Harry loaded in about ten bags off her arms.

“What?” she asked, “’s quicker if you grab more, right?”

Niall nodded, still gaping.

“So, uh…” she said once Harry was done. “You’re pretty jacked, huh?”

Harry frowned. “Yes.”

Harry had found it was easier to say yes to the confusing things humans said than it was to ask what their odd slang words meant.

Niall let out a low whistle, then gestured to the car. “Does The Incredible She-Hulk wanna get some ice cream?”

Harry huffed a laugh. “I would love to.”

As soon as Niall’s back was turned, Harry used a small spell to snatch her phone from her back pocket. She didn’t even notice, climbing into the driver’s seat and fiddling with the radio.

Harry quickly pulled out the ‘internet’ thing that she’d seen Sarah use to settle an argument about the time signature of some song that had been on the radio.

She typed into the box ‘incredible she-hulk’, tongue poking out in concentration.

When the answer loaded she barked out a laugh. The strong, green warrior was indeed a lot like Harry.

“Niall, you dropped this,” she said, pulling open the passenger door.

Niall took her phone back gratefully. “Cheers, mate! Didn’t even realise that was missing.”

Harry smiled innocently. “So… Ice cream?”

When they arrived at the place where ice cream was made and sold, ("It’s a Ben and Jerry’s, Harry, jesus') Harry was a little overwhelmed. There were so many different colours to choose from, so could you really blame her for pouting at Niall until she agreed to get her four different cones?

No. You couldn’t.

She didn’t even have any trouble balancing her cones on the way to sit down in the corner booth across from Niall. She had always been gifted in the hand department. Louis used to say she’d grow into them; it was one of the many things she’d been right about.

Harry took a seat delicately, careful not to topple any of the delicious desserts. She started with a rainbow one that tasted of a lot of different things at once. She was sure she looked ridiculous, trying to lick one cone and hold three others, but Niall didn’t seem to mind.

“You don’t eat ice cream much, huh?” she asked, no judgement in her tone.

Harry nodded, smiling. Then her smile dimmed.

“Niall…” She trailed off.

Niall pouted at her faux-seductively, wiggling her eyebrows. “Yes?”

Harry snorted despite herself.

“Louis is…” she started. Niall sobered up at the mention of Louis. “She’s different to when I knew her. She’s…quieter.”

Niall nodded thoughtfully. “You know, Harry,” she leant forwards, gesticulating with her spoon, “when I first met Louis, she was very loud. She was Liam’s friend before I met her, but when I did the first thing I noticed was that she seemed born for the spotlight. Then, I got to know her. And I realised she only needed the spotlight when she didn’t think she had it.”

Niall gave Harry a significant look.

Harry frowned.

She ate her ice cream.

 

❧❧❧

 

Harry was poking around the kitchen. Niall had left her to her own devices, so she decided to familiarise herself with the strange equipment and food items Louis and her girls kept.

They were, at that. _Her_ girls. That’s what it felt like, to Harry. It sounded right.

She tried not to think about the clock looming over her head.

Instead, she set her mind to working out what the strange words printed on all the wrappings in Louis’ cupboard meant. Only a few were at all familiar.

Humans really had made so many things a lot more complicated than they needed to be.

When Louis found her an hour later, she’d just managed to put the kitchen back together and was whipping up a very eclectic salad from various vegetable-adjacent things she’d found.

“Oh!” Louis said, walking into the kitchen and stopping in her tracks.

Harry exaggeratedly looked behind herself for the thing that caused Louis’ reaction.

Louis rolled her eyes. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”

Harry snorted, unconvinced. “You forgot I was here, didn’t you.”

Louis shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I just didn’t expect to find you in the kitchen.”

Harry added some herbs to the salad, face carefully blank. “Why not?”

Louis ignored her question. “What’r’ya making,” she said, hopping onto the counter next to Harry and swinging her bare feet against the cabinet.

Harry looked her over. She was dressed in a boring blue shirt and pants, presumably some form of compulsory woking garb. There were bags under her eyes and a playful look on her face. If Harry hadn’t known her for so long, she might not have been able to see the guardedness underneath.

Louis was trying her hardest to pretend otherwise, but she still didn’t trust Harry. That much was clear.

“It’s a salad.” Harry said.

Louis gave her a flat look. “Is it.”

Harry raised her eyebrows back. “It is.”

“Well, this is a fascinating conversation,” came a dry voice from the doorway. Harry and Louis whipped their heads towards it, both now realising how close they’d been leaning.

Zayn was standing there, arms crossed. She looked sleep-rumpled, which was strange to Harry given it was almost sunset.

Perhaps she was nocturnal, like a firefly. Or a mouse.

Harry quite liked mice.

“Sod off, you’re hardly a paragon of wisdom yourself, mate,” Louis said defensively.

Zayn just shrugged and pulled open the fridge. Harry watched with horror as she proceeded to down an entire carton of milk.

She looked to Louis for explanation, but she seemed distracted by looking at something on her phone. Harry leaned over to catch a peak of what it was.

Louis turned the phone so she could see.

It was a folder of images, all of Zayn. She was drinking milk in every single one.

“We’re collecting evidence so we can stage an intervention,” she whispered to Harry.

Zayn walked out of the kitchen while flashing them with a middle finger.

Louis giggled into her hand and Harry watched with fascination. Her entire face was lit up in laughter, eyes squeezing shut.

Louis’ giggles eventually subsided. Harry shook herself and went back to mixing her salad.

“Would you like some?” she asked nonchalantly.

Louis paused.

“Sure,” she answered.

Harry served them both up some salad then Louis dragged them over to the couch where the rest of the girls were pressing buttons on rectangles to interact with the television.

“Its a video game,” Louis whispered to Harry. She then proceeded to drape herself over everyone’s laps, leading to some loud grumbling from Liam when she sat on her rectangle.

“Ha! I win!” yelled Zayn. “Look, I’m right on the finish line, take that Lima–“

Niall’s little pink character zoomed past Zayn, taking first place. There was a moment of complete silence.

Louis started cackling.

Harry perched on the arm of the couch and patted Zayn on the back consolingly.

“Sorry your mushroom got beaten by Niall’s strange frog,” she cooed.

Zayn nodded sadly.

The rest of the night was spent teaching Harry how to play Mario Kart, then FIFA. She was, much to everyone’s annoyance, very good at both. It was the most fun she'd had in what felt like years, laughing and playing games with... with friends.

 

❧❧❧

 

Living with Louis and her humans was strange for the next few days. They were all required by the demands of their society to waste large amounts of their time doing what sounded like incredibly boring and useless things in places that _weren’t_ the apartment, so Harry found herself alone more often than not.    
  
Harry tried to find the time to talk to Louis, perhaps reminisce about their youth together and get her to reconsider staying in the human world, but she never seemed to be able to catch her by herself. There was always one of her girls around, or she would say she was too tired and lock herself in her room.

The closest she’d gotten was when she’d accidentally bumped into Louis on her way out of the bathroom. Harry had grabbed her hips on instinct to steady her, and it had immediately been a mistake; Louis had still been a little damp from her shower, skin cold through the fabric of her shirt, but Harry’s hands tingled nonetheless. Louis had been dazed for a second, gazing up at Harry with an odd expression.

 _Gazing up._ Because Harry was now half a head taller than her, where they’d always been the same height.

Louis had shaken herself off, then, taking a quick step back and ripping herself from Harry’s hold.

“When did you get so tall, huh?” she’d laughed awkwardly, then rushed away to lock herself in her room again.

It seemed, to Harry, that Louis was counting down the days until she left.

She tried not to let it get to her. Right now, Harry was teaching Zayn how to weave using spare strips of fabric. She’d hoped that perhaps it would remind Louis of home, and given that Louis was lurking in the corner of the room watching them with a far-away gaze, it was probably working.

“This is proper wicked, Harry,” Zayn breathed once she started to get the hang of it. “Lou!” She shot over her shoulder. Louis startled. “Can you do this? Why didn’t you teach me before!”

Louis blinked at her. “I’m going to bed,” she announced in lieu of answering.

As if to prove her point, she turned towards her bedroom and marched towards it.

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry directed softly at her retreating back.

Louis paused for a second, then smiled thinly over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Haz.”

Harry felt the nickname like a punch to the gut. No one but Louis had ever called her that, so it had been two years since she’d heard it.  
  
Louis seemed to realise her mistake, because her face shuttered and she quickly escaped behind her door. Zayn watched the interaction shrewdly, but thankfully offered no comment.

That night, Harry lay on the lumpy couch and stared at the ceiling. It was worryingly water-stained, cracking in several places. One of the cracks looked like a river flowing into a tree. One of the stains looked like an old man who’d just fallen over. Staring at them gave her an excuse to avoid thinking.

But that wasn’t something she could do forever; she now had just nine days before her ceremony.

Nine days to convince Louis to come home.

She needed a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

“Good morning, Liam!” Harry said brightly, marching into Liam’s room a little after sunrise. She’d started to wear bedclothes at night in deference to Niall’s reaction the other morning, and she was more than ready to take them off and get the day started.

Liam was, apparently, still fast asleep underneath a pile of blankets. This would not deter her.

Harry jumped onto the pile, earning a loud “ _ oof!” _ from Liam, almost drowned out by Harry’s cackled apologies. Once she’d settled herself on Liam’s bed, she checked the words she’d scrawled on the back of her hand.

“Today is Saturday and no one has work! Do you want to come to the park and play football?” she recited.

She knew the first part because she’d already snuck into everyone’s room to check their calendars using a simple silencing spell that she and Louis had made a lot of use of when they were younger, getting herself and Louis in to all kinds of mischief—Louis had never been able to cast a spell, something Harry had tried to make up for during their childhoods.

The last part was an idea she’d gotten from the video game they’d played the other night. Football was, she gathered, a human sport a lot like a game she played back home sometimes. Louis had always been the best at it.  

“Whhaattzzzt?” Liam said, rubbing her face and sitting up. Her long, thick hair was sticking up in every direction, so Harry grabbed a comb from the nightstand and started to untangle it.

Liam made a noise somewhere between protest and thanks.

“Park? Football? Saturday?” Harry said. She hoped simplifying it might help Liam understand so early in the morning.

“Sure,” Liam said, blinking heavily.

Harry beamed at her then set to work giving her a simple braid.

After Liam’s hair was done and she was slightly more coherent, Harry enlisted her help in waking everyone else up. Harry had thought originally that Liam was more of a stick-in-the-mud, practical rather than whimsical. Harry was so pleased to find she’d been wrong about her.

“So when we go in,” she was saying, face alight with impish glee, “I’m gonna yell that someone’s chopped all her hair off, and while she’s freaking out, you come in from the side with the milk.”

Harry nodded. “And your sure she won’t mind us ruining her sheets?”

Liam shook her head. “She always does laundry on Saturday, it’ll be fine. And also really funny.”

Harry grinned. “Let’s do this.”

Liam pushed open the door.

“Oh my god Zayn! Someone’s gone and chopped all your hair off!” she cried. Her accent was somehow a little thicker than normal, but her voice was filled with believable-sounding horror.

Harry swallowed a snicker.

Zayn, as Liam predicted, woke almost instantly. She sat bolt upright in bed, hand flying to her hair. To be fair, it was rather impressive—shiny black locks flowing down to her waist, one side shaved in a way Harry understood to be quite fashionable with humans.

“What?” she gasped. Liam kept up the charade admirably, going on about how all Zayn’s hair had been cut off. Harry used Zayn’s distraction to crawl around the side of her bed. She didn’t even notice Harry until she stood upright.

By then it was already too late.

“Wha–“ she said, turning her head towards Harry. She was met with a face full of cold milk.

There was a moment of silence as the milk dripped down Zayn’s face and hair onto her star-patterned bedsheets. Harry stood still, mouth wide in disbelief that the plan had worked.

Liam broke the silence by snorting, then the snort turned into a laugh, and soon enough Harry and Liam were both gasping for air and holding their stomachs. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” muttered Zayn. She stood, grabbed her ruined sheets, and marched into the laundry room.

Liam and Harry’s laughter followed her.

“Do you think she’s really mad?” Harry asked once the laughter died down.

Liam was still chuckling a little. “She’ll forgive us if we make her some coffee.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Liam.”

Liam responded in kind, growing serious. “What, Harry?” she asked, sounding afraid of the answer.

“That was the last of the milk,” Harry whispered.

Liam looked horrified.

“Quick! Get your shoes on!” she hissed, running to her room and pulling a coat over her pyjamas. “We’ve gotta go buy more before anyone notices!”

Harry pulled on a jumper Louis had left on the floor next to the couch. She didn’t bother with shoes.

“Why?” she panted as Liam grabbed her hand, shoved some keys and a tenner in her pocket, then dragged them out the door.

“You know how much Zayn loves her milk, right?” Liam replied, taking the steps two at a time.

“Yeah?”

“Well, when there’s no milk for her tea, Louis is three times as bad as that.”

Harry winced. She took the stairs three at a time.

“Long-legs-mcgee,” Liam muttered. Harry pretended she didn’t hear her.

By the time they’d bought the milk and rushed back into the apartment, Zayn was just opening the door to the laundry to step back out.

“Oh hi, Zayn!” Harry beamed innocently. “Would you like some coffee?”

Zayn narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Next to Harry, Liam beamed too. She was hiding the milk behind her back.

“Sure,” Zayn said slowly.

Harry tugged on Liam’s sleeve and together they shuffled backwards into the kitchen. Zayn raised her eyebrows at them.

Once they’d made it through the doorway, Harry let out a breath. “Good job, Liam, very covert.”

Liam snorted and started making four cups of coffee and one of tea.

“Go give this to Niall,” Liam said once she was done with the coffee. “I’ll wake up Lou.”

Harry loitered. “Umm.”

Liam gave her a look. “Do you wanna swap or something?”

Harry fiddled with her hair. “Yeeeeees?” she said sheepishly.

Liam passed her the tea.

Zayn walked into the kitchen and grabbed one of the coffees.

“Really funny prank guys,” she said as she took a gulp. Harry couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. Liam certainly didn’t think so, because she puffed her chest out in pride.

“Thank you!” she said. “It was my idea!”

Harry patted Liam on the back as she passed. “I like your sheets!” she said to Zayn, leaving the kitchen for Louis’ room.

“Fuck you!” Zayn called after her.

Harry knocked softly on Louis’ door, ignoring Zayn’s profanity. When she was met with no response, she pushed the door open slowly.

Louis’ room was…. Beautiful. She hadn’t gotten a good look this morning when she’d snuck in because everything was too dark still, but now she could see it all. There were about ten houseplants of different species and sizes crammed in every corner and filling up a desk beside her bed. There were hanging lights around her ceiling, and the walls were covered in posters of caves, woods, lakes, rivers, trees, flowers. Everything from home.

Harry’s breath was caught in her throat as she took it all in.

Her gaze moved to Louis, fast asleep in her bed. Unlike the other girls, she didn’t have a wooden contraption to suspend her mattress. Instead, her bed was a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. It was exactly like the beds they’d both grown up sleeping on.

Harry closed the door behind her and tiptoed over to Louis. She knelt on the floor next to her bed, placing the tea down gently. Louis was curled in a ball hugging a pillow, breaths even and hair a mess. She looked so young like this, so soft. Unexpected tears pricked at Harry’s eyes, and she sniffed. She didn’t know why she felt like crying.

“Lou,” she whispered. Louis’ hand twitched, but she didn’t wake.

“Boobear,” Harry tried. Louis had always pretended to hate that nickname, protesting as loudly as she could whenever Harry called her that in public, but when it was just the two of them, all she would do was blush. It was probably cruel for Harry to use it now, after everything. But Harry really needed Louis to come home, and if reminding her of their past didn't work then she had no idea what would.

Louis still didn’t wake. Harry raised a careful hand to smooth some of her fringe out of her eyes, careful to keep her touch light. Louis sniffled. Still asleep, she raised a clumsy hand to grab at Harry’s. Harry studied the way their hands looked together, how much smaller Louis’ was. They used to be the same size—just another thing that had changed between them. Then, her world flipped and whirled as Louis tugged at her arm. Harry was already off-balance from leaning over Louis, so she went down like a sack of bricks and landed on top of the other girl.

“Wah?” Louis said incoherently, awake now and blinking up at Harry. Harry pushed herself up so there was some distance between their faces. Their bodies remained pressed together, separated by a soft sheet that did nothing to prevent Harry from feeling her warmth.  

“Hi,” Harry choked out.

Louis smiled at her blearily, eyes crinkling. “Hi, Harry,” she said. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. Then, Louis' face emptied. “What are you doing in my room? And… is that my jumper?”

Harry watched sadly as the sweet, sleepy girl in front of her was replaced by the Louis she’d known for the past few days, closed off and careful. A thousand walls separated them that Harry had no idea how to climb.

Harry sighed, pushing herself off Louis. “I brought you some tea,” she said, passing Louis the cup and utterly ignoring her second question.

Louis sat up and accepted the still-steaming mug. She watched Harry with mild suspicion over the brim as she took a sip.

Harry cleared her throat awkwardly. “Since it’s a Saturday and no one’s working, I thought we could all go to a park and play some football?” she asked, hopeful and unsteady.

Louis frowned. “You don’t know how to play football, Harry.”

Harry tried not to let her disappointment show. She needed to be firm; she had a plan, and they  _ were  _ going to do this today. Then tomorrow… She’d think of something else.

“I did alright at FIFA, if you recall,” she said cheekily.

Louis scowled. She hadn’t been happy about losing every match to a 'bloody noob’, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s the winner when we play for real,” Louis shot back competitively.

Harry grinned. That was a yes.

“Great!” she enthused, hopping up. “Well, drink your tea and get dressed. Everyone’s awake and we’ll be ready to go soon!”

Louis made a show of draining her tea. “Better get your game face on, Harold!” she threatened, standing up and stretching. Harry’s gaze caught on the smooth skin of her stomach where her shirt had ridden up. She blushed.

“My game face is always on,” she shot back, speeding out of the room.

She was met with a couch-full of girls. Niall was sitting on the arm and nursing her coffee. Liam had Zayn sat on the floor between her legs and was running a brush through her wet hair.

“Hazza!” Niall shouted when she caught sight of Harry. “I heard you pranked poor Zaynipoo this mornin’! Why didn’t you wake me up? I would’ve paid to see that!” She cackled.

Harry pouted apologetically. “I’m sorry Niall!” she said, meeting Niall’s volume and energy. She threw her arms around Niall’s belly, hooking her face over her shoulder. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Niall patted her head consolingly.

“I’ll think about it, ya punk,” she replied. Harry grinned. Somewhere along the line she’d managed to earn Niall’s friendship. Pretty impressive for five days, if she said so herself.

“What's all this then!” Louis yelled as she burst into the room. She’d managed to—quite amazingly—get changed into full football gear in about two minutes. She was wearing shorts, a loose shirt, spiked shoes, and knee-high socks. Most importantly (at least, to Harry), she’d pulled her hair back under a glittery headband.

“I’m stealing your girl!” Niall yelled back, lifting one of Harry’s hands from her stomach and waving it in victory. Louis glared at her. Harry couldn’t tell if it was genuine or part of the joke.

“You guys about ready to go?” Harry asked, still hanging off Niall.

Liam nodded. “Zayn’s got all the milk outta her hair, so she’s good to go too,” she said.

Zayn gave a thumbs up in support of that statement.

“Umm,” Harry said. Four pairs of eyes shot to her. “Could I borrow some football clothes?” she asked uncertainty. Everyone replied at once.

“Yeah–“

“Sure–“

“I’ll go grab you some–“

“Fine.”

Harry beamed. “Great!”

She ended up getting dressed in a combination of the girl’s offerings: Liam’s bra and socks, Niall’s shirt, Zayn’s shoes, and Louis’ shorts. While Louis had claimed her shorts were ‘baggy’, they clung to Harry’s ass and thighs quite tightly. She didn’t mind, of course, but Louis wouldn’t stop sneaking glances at them as they walked to the local park. It sent little sparks down Harry’s back every time—part smugness and part confusion. There wasn’t a lot about Louis’ behaviour in the past few days that had made any sense to her, mind you.

Once they arrived and found a free area of grass, Niall walked a few paces in front of the girls and dramatically flung her bag down on the ground.

“Alright, ladies!” she yelled, whipping towards them. She was doing a remarkable impression of Old Man Yemic when he caught anyone doing sub-par spellwork. Harry doubted it was what she was going for, but she winced anyway at the memory. “Time to nut up or shut up!”

“But I left my nuts at home, Sir!” Louis called, football resting against her hip in a lazy hold.

Niall plucked the football out of her hands and threw it on the ground next to her bag. “That’s enough out of you, you whippersnapper!”

Louis covered her face in her hands, shaking with laughter.

Niall’s poker face almost broke at the sight, but she turned to a bored-looking Zayn instead.

“Hey punk! You ready to play some BALL!” she yelled, getting right up in Zayn’s face.

There was a moment of stillness, then Zayn pulled a face toddler’s make when they’re trying to look intimidating. Her acting skills were either terrible or terrifyingly good. Either way, it made Niall burst out laughing.

“I bags Harry for my team!” Liam called, interrupting the slap fight between Zayn and Niall that had just broken out. Louis made a loud sound of protest then tried to play it off as a joke when everyone turned to stare at her.

“Like I want Harry on my team! Ha!” she said, laughing forcedly and grabbing Niall to throw her arm around her shoulders. “Good luck trying to get her long Bambi legs to kick a ball, losers! I’ve got the power of Niall Horan on my side!”

“Yeah!” Niall cried, slinging her arm around Louis’ waist. Then, she leaned in and whispered loudly into Louis’ ear, “You know I’ve still got that dodgy knee, right Tommo?”

Louis pressed a quick kiss to Niall’s cheek.

Zayn rolled her eyes, dragging Liam and Harry into a huddle.

“Alright team, get your game faces on,” Liam said.

“I think Louis left my game face at home with her nuts, Liam,” Harry deadpanned.

From a couple metres away Louis barked out a loud laugh. She hastily went back to stretching when Harry turned to grin at her.

When Harry swivelled back into the huddle she was met with two considering gazes. Zayn looked between her and Louis, then over at Liam. They seemed to have a conversation purely by making silly faces at each other.

“Harry,” Liam barked suddenly, focusing her attention back on her.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“I need you on Louis duty. The last 13 games of footie we’ve played with her she’s won. It’s about time someone takes her down a peg or two.”

“If you wanted to peg me you could just ask,” Louis yelled from across the field.

Liam startled. She turned an interesting fuchsia colour.

Harry and Zayn patted her on the back consolingly.

“Louis has very good hearing,” Harry said. Liam shot her a look that said ‘where was that information a minute ago’. But, since it was Liam, it was a very non-confrontational look.

“What does Louis duty mean?” Harry changed the subject, leaning in and whispering. She also wiggled her feet to cast a spell on the grass so it would soak up their conversation.

Harry Styles never loses.

“You know…” Liam trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “Distract her.”

“Use your feminine wiles,” Zayn cut in cheekily.

Harry nodded seriously. “On it.”

_ I hope you know what you’re doing,  _ she thought to herself.

The three girls pulled back from the huddle, stretching and making their way to their positions. Harry was running defence on Louis, Liam was running attack, and Zayn was smoking a blunt on a bench that constituted the goalpost.

“I want a good fair game, ladies!” she called, taking a drag.

Harry stared Louis down. Louis stared Harry down.

“On three?” she said as she placed the ball in the centre of the field.

Liam hunkered down. Harry pulled her hair into a ponytail. Niall bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to her knee for good luck.

“Three,” Louis barked.

“Two,” Harry shot back.

“One!”

Everyone raced forward at once. They collided in a crash of elbows and legs, swearing and laughing. Harry managed to kick the ball out of the fray and towards Louis and Niall’s goal completely by accident. Liam sprinted off after it like a puppy who believed that fetching a stick meant the difference between life and death.

Niall shadowed her, sticking close as she dribbled then stealing the ball the second she faltered. She sent it hurtling towards Louis who intercepted it with a very impressive head-butt manoeuvre that Harry blinked and missed.

Liam waved frantically at Harry, mouthing ‘distraction!’ at her. At least, that was Harry’s best guess.

“Oh, um,” Harry said, panicking. “My shoelace is undone!” She turned around and bent down just as Louis was about to kick a goal. She smirked at her shoes—both still securely laced—as she heard the tell-tale sound of Louis tripping. Well, at least she hadn’t been  _ that  _ wrong about Louis’ behaviour.

“Lou, are you okay?” she asked innocently, straightening up. Louis pushed herself up angrily, red in the face.

“There was a rock,” she said snootily. Liam scored a goal. Harry and Zayn cheered.

On her way past Harry, Louis leaned in and whispered, “It’s on, sunshine.”

Harry grinned.

The rest of the game was spent with Harry trying increasingly ridiculous distraction tactics—more commonly known as cheating—and Louis going from amused to fed up and back to amused depending on if she was winning at the time. After an hour had passed and the score was solidly sitting on four each, Zayn stood up on the bench and loudly announced a tie.

“That’s it! I’m fucking bored of this!” she screeched. It was the most animated Harry had ever seen her, including this morning.

Niall threw her hands up in surrender. “Alright, princess, calm down! We’ll call a draw!”

Harry collapsed gratefully onto the grass. “Thank god! I’m knackered!” she cried, still somehow finding the energy to try and make a grass angel.

Louis appeared above her, face still a touch on the grouchy side. “I know you used your magic for that last one, dickhead,” she hissed under her breath. She was referring, of course, to the lovely monarch butterfly Harry had very nicely asked to fly in front of Louis’ face before she could steal the ball off Liam.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry smiled innocently. A myriad of emotions passed over Louis’ face before it settled on contempt.

Harry sat up, ready to apologise.

“Shove it,” Louis snapped, already walking away. Harry frowned after her.

Had she gone too far? She’d gotten so caught up in the game, gotten too high on the drug that was Louis’ attention. Hopefully Louis wasn’t too mad at her, or that would surely set her back a couple days. According the ‘convince Louis to come home’ mental schedule she had, those few days were more than she could afford.

She pushed herself up and dusted her pants off, making some calculations. Maybe if she made Louis a shitload of raspberry tarts? She loved raspberry tarts. And lemon bread. Hmmm.

“Harry? You coming?” Liam called. Harry smiled thinly and nodded, rushing to follow the ladies out of the park.

“Reckon it’s time for ice cream, don’t ya think, ladies?” Niall said, slinging a hand over Harry’s shoulder. “You should see this one go nuts for it, it's hilarious.”

Harry gaped at her, betrayed. “Niall!” she whined.

Liam pet her on the head consolingly. “It’s ok, everyone likes ice cream.”

Harry turned her offended expression to Liam. Liam’s poker face broke and she started snickering.

“Actually, I think I’ll just meet you guys at home,” Louis interrupted.

Everyone turned to her, a mixture of surprised and offended.

Louis just shrugged. “See you,” she said, already turning in the direction of the flat.

Harry watched her go sadly. So much for making any progress today.

“What’s her problem?” Zayn grouched.

Harry sighed. “Me, probably.”

No one said anything else until they were settled into a corner booth at the Ben and Jerry’s.

Harry was taking pathetically tiny spoonfuls of ice cream and licking at them morosely. Niall was making hand gestures at Liam and Zayn that Harry presumed they were supposed to interpret as ‘someone say something’.

“So, Harry,” Liam started awkwardly. Harry looked at her. She licked her spoon. “You and Louis… grew up together, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

Liam threw a frantic look around the table. “What, uh, what was that like?”

Harry smiled. “Wonderful.”

Liam looked disappointed that she’d only got a single word out of her.

Zayn cut in. “So what did you do to make her hate you?”

Liam and Niall winced. Harry’s spoon was paused halfway to her mouth.

Zayn just gave her a flat look. Harry felt anger surge in her. She wasn’t normally an angry person, but. This called for it.

“I didn’t do  _ anything _ . We were best friends, and then she left. That’s it.” Harry said. Her tone was low, serious.

Zayn just raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? Then how come she can’t stand to be around you?”

“Zayn!” Niall hissed.

Harry took a deep breath. She pushed her ice cream away and stood. “Great question, Zayn,” she snapped, turning to the door and walking away. Liam made an aborted movement to stop her, but Niall put a hand on her shoulder.

Harry was fuming as she made her way back to the flat. She paused at the door, thinking. Did she really want to go back in there? Did she really want to face Louis, when she was already angry?

The answer was, unsurprisingly, no.

She turned and sat down in the gutter, cheek resting on her hand. She watched the cars go past for a minute, trying to calm her racing mind. It’s not like the question Zayn asked was one she hadn’t asked herself a million times, in the darkness of her bedroom with only her shame and her grief to keep her company.

Absently, she ran her fingers over the small patch of weeds growing through a crack in the cement.

That's what she needed, she decided. To get herself back to nature, to her magic. She needed to centre himself, remind herself why she was doing this.

She dug her fingers into the small amount of soil beneath the weeds, concentrating on the surrounding area. She sent her mind out along the system of roots that connected all things, following it back to the closest area of concentrated power. Even in the human world, there were still little pockets of old magic. She found one after only a few minutes of searching. It was surprisingly close, about a twenty minute walk from here. She memorised the direction, then stood and started walking toward it.

She came to a stop when she reached the entrance. It was a massive cement pipe leading underneath a road. There was a patch of green in front, filled with plastic bottles and other human waste. She frowned. Surely this wasn't it.

Curiously, she pushed forward. The inside of the pipe was just as awful. A small trickle of water ran through the bottom, a murky brown in colour. Still, she continued on. Her steps echoed in the tunnel, and she itched to take her shoes off.

About halfway down the pipe, she could see a fuzzy shape on the left wall. She squinted at it. It was a patch of darkness, jagged-edged and oozing with power. When she reached it, she discovered it was a crack in the cement. From within the crack, she heard running water. And… singing.

She squeezed through the opening with care. She had to push away a few low-hanging vines, and then her feet met moss. Instantly, she bent down and tugged off her shoes. Spreading her toes onto the bed of moss was the best thing she'd felt all week.

A grin etched itself into her face. She stepped forward through more hanging vines, following the sound of the voice.

Now that she could hear it better, it sounded familiar. Quietly, she pushed through the last layer of greenery.

The sanctum of old magic was beautiful. It almost brought tears to her eyes, with how much it reminded her of home. There was a small stream running through the middle, barely more than a foot deep. Moss-covered boulders cascaded over each other to form the walls, and a trickle of sunlight illuminated the space from a grate at the very top. Faintly, Harry heard the noises of cars driving past.

In the middle of it all was Louis.

She was sitting against one of the stones, her bare feet dipped into the water. Her eyes were shut; she hadn't seen Harry come in.

Her voice was different to how it used to be in small ways. It was smoother, but also... scratchier, somehow, like the feeling of soft fingers with sharp nails tugging through your hair. She was singing a human song Harry didn't recognise, but it was haunting. The sound would surely echo through her head long after Louis had finished.

All at once, Harry was so tired. She was tired of walking on eggshells, of playing games, of not being close to Louis. To the girl she loved. And always would love. She had a choice, here; walk away and keep trying to get Louis to come home, keep walking on eggshells around what had happened between them, or… Not do that. Seeing Louis here, surrounded by ancient magic and sounding so beautiful—it wasn’t much of a choice.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” Harry asked softly.

Louis’ singing cut off. Her eyes ripped open, and she took Harry in with surprise and… guilt?

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Louis asked breathlessly. She hadn't answered the question.

That's okay. Harry could be patient for a little while longer. “I followed the feeling of old magic.”

She walked over to Louis and gently took a seat across from her. The stream separated them, small but fast, it’s constant tinkling noise filling her ears. It had a mission, places to go; it didn't care about the girls it was keeping apart. Harry tried to forgive it for that. She dipped her toes in, copying Louis. She watched the way the rippling water distorted hers and Louis’ feet and felt a little like crying.

Louis folded her arms over her knees, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

Harry kept staring at her openly, unabashedly.

“Did you hear my question?” she asked.

Louis nodded sadly.

Harry waited. And waited.

Just like she'd always done.

Finally, after it became clear that no volume of silence would coerce Louis to talk first, she wet her lips. Her voice shook when she spoke, but she pushed through it.

“The night before you left was the best night of my life, you know.”

Louis’ eyes squeezed shut, like Harry's words had caused her physical pain. Maybe they had. In some sick way, it made Harry want to dig deeper, take the thorn out of her own side and dig it into Louis’.

“I remember every second of it. Everyone was preparing for Imbolc, and we were gathering flowers in the meadow. You looked so beautiful in the glow of the fireflies, and you smiled at me, and you took my hand, and–” her voice broke, her gaze flicked to the side, “you kissed me. You tasted like strawberries, like spring. My whole life I've loved you, Louis Tomlinson, but that was the moment I knew I'd love you into death and beyond.”

Louis’ face broke on a sob. She buried her head in her hands.

Harry kept pushing. “When we laid together that night, every moment was bliss. I thought you felt the same.”

Harry was crying too now, she realised. “I thought you felt the same,” she repeated brokenly.

Louis shook her head. Harry tried to take even breaths.

Louis used her sleeve to dry her eyes. She laughed, then. It was just an exhalation of breath, but to Harry it sounded like her own heart breaking.

Harry pulled her feet out of the stream, folding in on herself. How many more times could she lay herself bare before she'd stripped off too much? There’s only so much skin and muscle you can cut at before you hit bone. She made to stand.

“No, Harry,” Louis said, frantic and frustrated. “Stop, I–" she cut herself off. She looked at the stream, and the space between them.

Suddenly, she spoke. “Fuck this.”

Before Harry could respond, Louis was moving. She crawled over the stream, water splashing onto the stones and soaking her trousers. She didn't look like she particularly cared. She parked herself down in front of Harry with a determination that Harry recognised from the Louis she once knew.

“Harry, I did feel the same. That night meant everything to me. I can't… I can't tell you why I left. I just can't. You have to trust me when I say it wasn't because of you. Please.”

Harry tried to process that, brain a mess and heart still exposed in her chest.

Louis reached towards her. Her hands settled on Harry's shoulders, and she tugged Harry forward until their foreheads met.

On instinct, Harry closed her eyes. She just breathed. For a long moment, all she could think was how close she was to Louis, the places they were touching.

“Darling,” Louis said. The word dripped like honey from her tongue, loving and nurturing and warm.

Harry shivered.

“I loved you too.”

Harry’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes watered, her fingers clenched into fists. She was sure that one day, when this only hurt a little, she’d still be able to think of the way Louis’ lips formed the word  _ loved  _ and remember how it broke her.

Yet, Harry couldn’t even pull back from Louis’ embrace. That was how desperate she was for her touch, even now.

Louis dragged her hands up Harry’s neck and cupped her face. Harry, regretfully, pulled her eyes open. Louis looked about as broken as Harry felt. It wasn’t much of a comfort.

“Not that it matters anymore. I’m sure you have a lovely life back home with–” her gaze flickered to Harry’s braids, and her voice cracked, “–someone else. And I have my life now, too. And you'll be leaving soon, so.”

Harry felt as if she’d been dunked under ice water; it had hurt at first, sure, but now it was just beginning to feel... _ numb _ . She didn’t speak. She had nothing to say.

Louis looked at her pleadingly, like she needed Harry to agree with her. Harry just pulled back and stood on two shaky legs.

Louis scrambled to stand as well, eyes wide and blue, blue, blue.

Harry cleared her throat. “I understand.”

Louis’ face darkened, brows pinched in pain.

Harry had to get out of there. In amongst all the hurt and confusion she was feeling, she was certain she couldn't take any more of this. She stumbled back a little. The old magic in the room seeped into her through her skin, almost as if it was trying to comfort her with its presence somehow. Harry pushed some of her own magic into the stone beneath her as she walked unevenly towards the exit.

She paused once she’d made it to the jagged crack back into the tunnel. She turned and looked at Louis from over her shoulder. She didn't seem to feel the magic in the space, which was so heavy now it threatened to drown Harry in its weight. She didn't seem troubled by it, even standing in the centre as she was. She just looked sad.

She'd always been stronger than Harry.

It was that thought that pushed Harry to say one last thing. As many times as she gave her heart to Louis and had it turned away, it had never—not once—felt like a waste.

“There's no one else back home, Louis. My beads are for you. Like everything else that I do.”

Louis choked on a sob. “Harry–”

Harry turned away. She'd had enough. For today, at least. She tuned out Louis’ pleading words and escaped into the tunnel, where everything was silent and she could cry in peace


	5. Chapter 5

The thing was, she didn’t really have anywhere else to go in this awful human city, with its unforgiving ground, bright lights and never ending noise.

She stumbled her way back to Louis’ apartment, trying to make her numb brain come up with something resembling a plan. About a street away, she found a rat chewing on a sandwich next to an overflowing bin.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. The rat blinked at her. “If you see a girl with short hair coming towards that building, can you tap this please?” 

She knelt down and presented the rat with one of her runestones hopefully. It bared its teeth at her, then squeaked something resembling a 'yes’. Harry smiled down at it then continued walking.

She snuck in to the girl’s building behind someone with a key, then climbed the stairs on two shaky feet. When she reached their door, she stared for a moment at the strips of paint coming off around the edges. She glanced back down the stairs. She knocked.

In an instant, the door was wrenched open. Harry was surprised to find Zayn inside looking worried. 

“Oh! It's you,” she exhaled. Then, she frowned. “Where's Louis?”

Harry sniffled and crossed her arms. “She's coming back, but I'd rather not be here when that happens, if you don't mind. I'm just here for my things.”

Zayn’s eyebrows lifted, but she stepped aside. 

Harry found the rest of the girls camped out in the living room. Niall appeared to be stress munching on snacks. Liam was playing some sort of monster fighting game on her phone with very little enthusiasm. 

They looked up when Harry walked in, but their expressions fell after Zayn made a gesture behind Harry's back that she clearly didn't think Harry would notice. Harry cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Zayn moved to sit on the arm of the couch, joining the others in staring at her. Harry looked at the door. She grabbed her bag from under the coffee table and shoved the small amount of things she'd brought with her into it, making sure to be gentle with her camera.

“Harry, wait,” Zayn piped up. She looked pleading. “I'm sorry about what I said before. You don't have to leave.”

Harry pulled her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t apologise. You were right,” she said evenly.

Niall stood and approached Harry, arms outstretched. “Harry, c’mon. You don't even have anywhere to stay.”

Harry pulled the Polaroid Brigid had giften her from her bag, flipping it over before she could get a glimpse of Louis’ grinning face. “Yes, I do.”

Niall took the photo delicately, studying the words. She looked like she wanted to argue more, but instead she just sighed. Liam stood as well and put a comforting hand on her back. 

She turned her big puppy-dog eyes to Harry. Harry desperately hoped that she wasn't about to ask her to stay as well, because she knew that she couldn't say no again. Not to Liam.

“Will you come visit us this Friday? Before you leave? Louis won't be around, I promise.” 

Harry blinked. 

Liam pulled her into a hug. “We just want to make sure you're alright, yeah?” she said, patting Harry's head. Harry hugged her back tightly, trembling.

Niall joined the hug, then Zayn. Harry laughed despite herself when Niall started swaying the four of them gently. 

Zayn was the first to pull back. “Here, I'll call you an uber,” she muttered, looking a little wet around the eyes. She took the Polaroid from Niall's hand and started typing on her phone. Harry smiled at her in thanks. 

“Louis will come round, Harry,” Niall said. She didn't know what she was talking about, of course, but Harry appreciated the gesture nonetheless. She pressed a kiss to Niall's cheek, then Liam's, then Zayn’s. 

“Your uber’s downstairs, babes.” Zayn said. Then, she stalked off towards the kitchen. Idiotically, Harry wondered if she was about to drink some comfort milk. 

“Goodbye ladies,” Harry said with one last look around the room. Then, she made her way downstairs to find whatever this 'uber’ was.

She was already a few streets away when she felt her fingertips tingle with magic from her runestone. At least the rat had been listening.

 

❧❧❧

 

Sarah, Clare, Mitch and Adam lived in a very different flat than Louis and her girls did. The neighbourhood looked similar enough to Harry, but while Louis lived in a building crammed in with other humans like grubs under a stone, her new friends lived in a house. A two-story, cracks-in-the-stone, awful-pitiful-garden house. Harry knocked and waited with baited breath, checking the address for the fifth time. The words still didn't mean much to her, but at least the number at the start matched up. 

Suddenly, the door was pulled open. Harry could at once hear the ruckus coming from within, where before it was muffled and vague. It seemed the band were either practicing or arguing. Or both.

“Oh! Harry!” said Sarah, who was standing in the doorway. “It's so good to see you!”

“Your range is shit, Mitch!” Adam grouched from the other room. 

“Well what about Clare, then?” Mitch shot back. 

Sarah smiled uncomfortably. “Sorry about them,” she stage-whispered. “We’ve just been having a bit of a spat since our vocalist left.”

“I can’t project!” Clare cried mournfully. “I’ve got no volume!”

“Guys! Harry’s here!” Sarah called over her shoulder, putting an end to the bickering. There was a moment of silence, then three heads popped out of the open door.

“Oh! Hi, Harry!” Clare enthused. 

Harry waved politely. 

Adam scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Say, Harry…” he drawled. 

Harry gulped. 

“Can you sing?”

Three pairs of pleading eyes landed on Harry. She tucked some hair behind her ear distractedly, trying to remember if there was any difference between human singing and the singing she grew up with. 

Probably not, right?   
  
“Yes,” Harry answered, only a beat after it had become awkward. “I can.”   


Her statement was met with cheering.

 

❧❧❧

 

Louis poured herself a cup of tea. It was her third of the morning, and she was already ten minutes late for work. 

“Louis,” Liam shuffled nervously. “Aren't you going to work?”

Louis glared at her over the rim of her cup. She took a pointedly slow sip. 

“Liam,” she started. “It's been a long week.”

Liam looked helplessly at Niall and Zayn, motioning unsubtly at Louis. Louis narrowed her eyes.

“What’s going on?” She knew what it looked like when someone was hiding something. She’d been doing it for years, after all. 

Liam cleared her throat. “Nothing, Lou, it’s just...” she leaned forward significantly, eyes sincere. “I know you don’t want to talk about Harry, except–”

Louis stood, cutting her off. “You’re right about that, Liam,” she said coolly, plonking her tea cup on the table. Niall chewed her cereal judgmentally. Zayn caught Louis’ wrist as she backed away from the table. 

“Louis, what’s between you and Harry is none of our business. But she’s our friend now, whether you like it or not, and we stick by our friends,” she stated. Louis felt her hackles rise. 

Niall kept chewing. Something about the repetitive crunch, crunch, crunch of it crept into Louis’ head, grounding her. Zayn was right. These girls had stuck by her through thick and thin the past few years, ever since she’d shown up on Liam’s doorstep with a broken heart and no place to stay. 

“It is your business, though, Zayn,” Louis sighed. She ran a tired hand through her cropped hair. It was moments like these that the weight of all the words she couldn’t say hung heavy on her soul. 

Zayn nodded like she understood. 

Niall’s gaze flicked between the two girls calculatingly. “Well, you have about five minutes to decide if you want to clue us all in, Louis,” she said. “Because Harry’s coming by.” 

Louis’ eyes widened. “What, like, now?” She rushed out, looking around at the state of disrepair the apartment was in. Usually they all did their part to keep it clean, but the collective mood of the past week had been a lazy kind of somber. There were take out bags and dirty clothes on almost every surface. 

Liam followed Louis’ gaze and winced. “Yeah, we maybe should have cleaned up a little.” 

“A little!” Louis screeched, finally pulling her hand from Zayn’s grip. “This place looks worse than after Niall’s party last year.”

Niall smiled wistfully. “That was a terrible night,” she said.

Louis pointed at her. “Exactly!” 

Zayn sighed. “Louis, calm down, she’s not gonna care about how the place looks.”

“I will not calm down, Zayn, she’s going home in two days and I’ll never see her again and I don’t want her last impression of me to be a—a fucking swamp goblin who lives in a pigsty, I—”

“Wait, what?” Niall interrupted, pushing her finished bowl of cereal away and rising to her feet. “If you care so much about what she thinks of you, and if you actually still want to see her, why have you been lying about like a useless lesbian lump this past week?” Niall was fuming. It was the angriest Louis had ever seen her. 

She blinked helplessly, fishmouthing. What was she supposed to say, the truth? Not bloody likely. 

Liam stood, patting Niall on the shoulder. “Louis, we’re not ganging up on you,” she started, always the voice of reason. “It’s just that…” She looked to Zayn helplessly, then continued, “even when you were being prickly to her—” Zayn snorted like it was an understatement, which made Louis wince, “I saw you smile more while she was here than I had in two years of knowing you. I think she could be good for you, you know?” Liam offered, like a nurse trying to get a newborn to drink its milk. “Don’t you agree?"   


Louis fumed, distracting herself by starting to gather up some of the rubbish on the coffee table. “Of course I agree, Liam, don’t be thick. It’s not about that.” She shoved her load into the bin roughly. 

Niall made a noise like she was trying not to scream in frustration. Louis almost snorted in agreement. 

“Well then what the fuck  _ is _ it about, Louis? There’s no need to be such a cryptic shit about this,” Zayn burst. 

Louis stared at her in shock. Zayn clamped her hand over her mouth, like she couldn’t believe her own words.    
  
Before Louis could even think of a response, there was a knock on the door.    


Four pairs of wide eyes turned to it in sync. “Shit,” Louis muttered. 

“Um,” a voice said from the other side of the door. “It’s me, Harry. I brought muffins?”

“Shit,” Louis said, louder this time. There was no explanation for why simply hearing Harry’s voice brought tears to her eyes. It was less of a gut-punch than the moment Louis’d walked out of her room and seen Harry standing in her living room, of course, but. It still hurt. Especially when she’d spent all week trying her hardest not to fucking think about her, about the all the things she’d said.  _ My beads are for you.  _

Niall looked at Louis significantly, and Liam and Zayn followed suit. They were watching her like they expected her to step up and do something, sweep the door open grandly and apologise to Harry for any wrongdoings of the past, perhaps pull her into a passionate embrace and rush off to get matching engagement rings. Louis took a frightened step backwards. She couldn’t do any of those things, no matter how much—well. All that mattered was she couldn’t, and Harry deserved someone who could. 

Zayn watched her back away with disappointment. Liam looked empathetic. Niall just looked… blank. 

“Yeah, one sec, Harry,” she called in the direction of the door.   
  
Louis turned and marched towards her room. She didn’t slam the door and throw herself into a pile on the bed, nothing as dramatic as that. She just shut it gently, sat down on her pillows, and stared at the wall. 

She could barely make out the muffled noises of Harry talking to Liam, Zayn and Niall in the other room. She wiped her sniffling nose on her sweater sleeve morosely, checking her phone out of habit. She had seven missed calls from her boss.

Fuck. 

She rang her back with shaking hands. Her voice was, even at a whisper, worse enough sounding that her boss let her off the hook for her last minute sick day. That was good, because Louis couldn't really afford to lose this job. Not when she'd worked so hard for it, for the life she'd built herself.

A life Harry couldn't fit into, she reminded herself firmly.  _ She belongs with her family and her kind. _

Louis heard the front door click shut. As soft a noise as it was, it still echoed in Louis' head. That was Harry, walking out of her life, while she was hiding in her room like a coward.

There was a timid knock at her door. Louis wiped at her eyes messily, croaking out, “Come in.”

Niall, Zayn and Liam's heads popped into view one by one. There was a sort of apologetic expression on their faces that reminded Louis of a youth spent causing trouble and then pretending to feel bad about it.

“You alright, Lou?” Zayn asked quietly. Louis glared at her. Her red-rimmed eyes spoke for themselves. 

In an instant she had a lapful of girls. Louis couldn't help the giggle she let out as they tried to organise themselves around her in a protective huddle. Niall smiled at the sound.

Louis closed her eyes and leant into the embrace. As many secrets as she'd kept from these girls, they really were her family. Her new family.

A family that actually wanted her.

There was a noise like rustling paper, then Liam cleared her throat. 

Louis opened her eyes and turned towards her. Liam passed her the flyer she was holding wordlessly.

It was an ad for some grunge band’s show at a pub nearby. Louis squinted at it in confusion. 

“ _ Chasm? _ What is this–”

Niall interrupted. “Harry brought that by to invite us.” She gave Louis a significant look. “All of us.”

“Apparently she managed to join a band and become their lead singer in a week,” Zayn added drily. Louis’ eyebrows shot up. “Temporarily, o’course.”

Louis studied the flyer again. The show was tonight. 

She felt like asking several hundred questions, but the girls only seemed to know as much as they'd just told her. She contemplated the last time she had seen Harry’s face,  _ would _ see her face. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she couldn’t just leave it at that.

“Well…” Louis sighed. “Looks like we’re going to a gig.”

 

❧❧❧

 

The bar was absolutely packed.   
  
“Maybe we should have gotten here earlier,” Louis yelled over the thumping bassline of the generic alt-rock song that was blasting through the speakers.

Zayn and Niall looked like they hadn’t gotten a word Louis said, but Liam nodded and patted Louis’ back.    
  
“Don’t worry Louis, you’re wily—you can squeeze your way to the front!” she enthused, somehow remaining optimistic despite being squashed between two rather unattractive men trying to make it to the bar. 

Louis grumbled frustratedly, wiping off her already sweaty palms. She’d worn a simple tank and skinny jeans, and was thankful for the breeze around her armpits.   
  
“This was probably a bad idea anyway, let’s just go,” she shouted. 

Niall and Zayn seemed to hear her this time, because they grabbed one of her arms each. 

“Nope! Not happening,” Niall said sunnily.

Louis glared at her. Liam appeared in front of them with a tray of drinks. How she'd gotten time to convince a bartender to serve her, Louis had no idea. 

“Drink up, Louis!” she cried, guzzling down one of the brightly coloured mixtures. 

Louis winced, but did as she was told. It probably wasn't the smartest idea, but this would definitely be easier if she was at least a little bit tipsy.

Suddenly, there was a wave of screams. Louis looked over to the stage and noticed four people–two women and two men–picking their way over to their instruments and plucking out a few tuning notes.

The music from the speakers cut off suddenly, and silence in the club was filled with cheering. 

One of the men leaned towards the microphone with a grin. “Good evening, everyone. We are Chasm, and tonight we have a very special show planned for you.”

Louis was pushed forward as Liam, Niall and Zayn dragged her towards the front of the mosh pit. Louis swore as she was jostled by excited clubgoers along the way, almost losing her drink. 

“So please give a warm welcome for our lovely guest vocalist, Miss Harry Styles!” The man yelled. Everyone in the room cheered, despite the fact that none of them knew who Harry even was. 

But Louis did. No one did like Louis. Her eyes followed Harry as she appeared from stage left, beaming out at the crowd and waving politely. Her hair was piled artfully on her head, a few choice curls hanging down delicately, and she was wearing a pink jumpsuit covered in glitter. 

She looked amazing. As always. Louis sculled her drink.

“Hiiiiii,” Harry drawled, taking her place at the front microphone. “I'm new.”

Applause. Harry blushed. Louis stole someone else's drink from their inebriated grip and sculled that one too.

The woman on drums started kicking a beat, the man on bass plucking out a baseline along with it. 

“This is Carolina,” Harry said silkily. 

Louis was out of drinks.

She stood there like the sad lesbian lump Niall had accused her of being for Chasm’s entire set, eyes glued to Harry's lips as she belted out the lyrics to the textbook rock songs the band had. With her voice and her stage presence—part angel, part devil—they seemed new, almost alive.

It was fucking  _ magical _ , and everyone in the crowded bar agreed. 

The second the band was gone from the stage, Louis was at the bar ordering far too many shots for someone her size. 

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” The crowd chanted after the lights had stayed poised on the empty stage long enough for people to grow impatient. Louis found herself chanting along with them.

Harry popped her head out from backstage, holding hands to her ear like a mother waiting for her children to use their please and thank yous. The crowd went  _ wild,  _ and Harry just gestured for them to be louder. 

_ She was made for this, _ Louis thought.  _ This is something humans can give her that her family can't.  _

For the first time in two years, a seed of hope planted itself in Louis’ heart.

Harry gestured for the crowd to go louder still, and they eagerly obeyed, and Louis would have been tempted to block her ears if she wasn’t right there with them, screaming her heart out. 

The band took to the stage again in amongst all the screaming. 

“Um, so,” Harry mumbled against the microphone, breaking away for a second to giggle and beam at the onslaught of noise. “I actually wrote this song myself, and these lovely people were nice enough to let me sing it for you tonight.” She gestured behind herself to the band, who were looking at her with soft smiles. Louis had no idea when she’d met these people, but she always did have a talent for making people fall in love with her. 

Then, she looked straight at Louis. Louis’ breath caught in her throat. Harry hadn’t so much as glanced her way throughout the entire show so far; she’d thought she’d successfully blended in to the audience.   
  
Apparently not. 

“I kind of wrote it a while ago for someone in particular.” Harry licked her lips nervously. “And a lot’s changed since then, but I still mean every word of it. This is Sweet Creature.”

The guitarist started picking out a tune. Louis recognised it instantly, of course she did. Harry was always full of music growing up, but this melody was one she would sing under her breath almost constantly for the year leading up to Louis leaving. Louis could picture it perfectly: Harry sitting behind her, combing her fingers through her hair and humming the tune softly into her ear, both of them giddy with love for the other but not yet brave enough to say. 

Louis had no idea it had words, though. 

Harry finally looked away from her, closing her eyes and gripping the microphone. Her voice was smooth and rich when she started singing, thicker than it had been all night. Louis couldn’t breathe.

Every single instinct in her was telling her to run, run,  _ this will hurt less if you leave _ , but Louis stayed right there next to the stage, looking up at Harry with the weight of a mountain in her chest. 

Harry deserved for Louis to hear this. She deserved to take her love and stab Louis in the heart with it, she deserved all that and more. But this… This was all Louis could give her. 

Harry didn’t look her way for the rest of the song, singing out her beautiful words to a crowd full of drunk assholes who couldn’t even remember her name. 

The rest of the band sung harmony, and it was such a contrast to the fast rock songs of the rest of the set. Louis might have wondered how Harry had managed to convince them to play it with her, but. It was a magical song. Anyone who heard it would say the same. 

And when Harry looked back at Louis for the last repeat of the chorus, proud and hopeful and unashamed, Louis almost couldn’t believe such a wonderful thing had been written about her. 

“You’ll bring me home,” Harry sang, but Louis couldn’t, could she? It was the one thing she couldn’t do.


	6. Chapter 6

“She’s listening now!” Sarah whispered to Harry as she started packing up her kit. Clare laughed softly, unplugging her keyboard. 

Harry blushed and risked a glance over her shoulder at the audience. People were starting to filter away back to the bar, and Harry couldn’t catch a glimpse of Louis in amongst the chaos. She could still feel her, though, her energy. She’d always felt so distinct from everyone else, even back home. She hadn’t left yet, then. 

Harry didn’t really know what to do with that information; she hadn’t exactly planned this far ahead. The last week had been a whirlwind of rehearsing with the band, learning all the songs and figuring out her parts. It was exactly what she needed: a distraction. 

But now that it was over, that she’d… gotten on stage, in front of all those people, and sung the song she’d written when she was sixteen and full of more butterflies than sense.    


Harry had meant what she’d said about it, though. She still felt every word. 

“Listening to what, though,” Harry whispered back sadly. She’d said her piece, she’d carved herself raw. All she could do was hope that Louis would take the next step, meet her in the middle for once.

Or else Harry was… homeless.

“Hazza! That was sick!” 

Harry turned just in time to catch an armful of Niall. She grinned at Niall’s charmingly inebriated state, patting her back. “Thanks,” she mumbled. 

Niall pulled back and ruffled her hair affectionately. “Proper rockstar, you are.”

Harry blushed a little. “M’not,” she denied, eyes searching behind Niall. Sure enough, Liam and Zayn were pushing their way through the crowd to get to side-stage where Harry and Niall were. Louis wasn’t with them. Harry swallowed her disappointment. 

“She is!” Sarah disagreed, slinging her arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Hi! I’m Sarah.”

Niall raised her eyebrows at the slightly aggressive way Sarah had introduced herself. 

“Hiiiiii,” Liam greeted, finally catching up to Niall. “I’m Liam, this is Zayn, and that one’s Niall. We’re here for Harry.” 

Harry smiled at her and Zayn. Zayn waved sloppily. Clearly, they’d all been hitting the bar. 

“Lovely to meet you,” Sarah said. Harry glanced over her shoulder at where the rest of the band was distracted talking to some other fans that had approached them. She frowned. 

Before she could say anything to lessen the somewhat awkward tension between her friends, Zayn spoke up. 

“Louis’ by the bar, if you wanted to talk to her.” She gave Harry a significant look. “You might want to say goodbye or something, since you’re leaving soon.”

Harry gulped, eyes wide. 

Sarah turned to stare at her incredulously. “Leaving?” she asked. 

Harry stepped away from her side. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, hunching in on herself. She didn’t have a good reason for not telling the band of her approaching deadline, she just… Hadn’t. And now it was way too late. 

“I’ll just… Find Louis.” She turned and pushed her way into the crowd, avoiding Sarah’s hurt gaze and the girls’ confused ones. She had no intention of finding Louis, she just really didn’t want to have that conversation. 

It had been so nice, living in a bubble for a week. She wasn’t ready for it to end. She knew it wasn’t fair, but. None of this was fair. 

She pushed her way out through the back door, leaning against the wall and sucking in some of the freezing night air. It had been so long that she almost couldn’t remember what clean air tasted like, felt like. London air, thick and heavy, had replaced all her sensory memories of breathing.

Perhaps it was just that she’d never had to focus so hard on breathing than in her time in London. 

Once her head was on a little straighter, she surveyed the shitty side street she’d ended up in. There was a group of smokers off to the side, chatting and drinking. The full moon cast their shadows down onto the cracked pavement. 

Harry ran a tired hand down her face. 

The door burst open. 

She turned, taking an instinctual step back. In the doorway stood Louis, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. She looked just as surprised to see Harry as Harry did her; there was a moment when Harry was sure she’d just turn back around and go inside, run away like she had so many times before. 

But then something in Louis’ face hardened. She took a step forward on two unsteady feet, letting the door swing shut behind her. 

“Harry fucking Styles,” she breathed, leaning back against the door for support. Harry stared down at her feet, anything to clear the sight of a Louis so drunk she couldn’t even stand from her vision. 

“Hello,” Harry replied politely. She moved to step away, but then Louis’ quick fingers fastened themselves over her elbow and refused to let go. 

“Harry,” Louis said, sounding much clearer. “Please. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Harry brought her gaze up to meet Louis’. Two sparkling blue eyes were studying her face. Harry wondered how the moon had any right to shine, when Louis was down here, doing her job far better.

“Did you really write it for me?” 

Harry blinked. Then, she huffed. How many times. How many times did she have to give Louis this. 

“Yes. Of course.” 

A smile grew at the corners of Louis’ lips. “I’m so drunk, Harry,” she whispered, like it was a secret. She leant right into Harry’s space, hands catching on her shoulders and alcohol-tinged breath ghosting over Harry’s face. “I’m so drunk that I can’t remember all the reasons why I shouldn’t kiss you right now.”

Harry almost choked. Her hands wrapped around Louis’ waist almost without her permission, steading her and pulling her in. She didn’t even have time to think of what to possibly say to that, because Louis, it seemed, was nowhere near finished. 

“You looked like a Goddess up there, Harry, like Branwen herself. There’s not a single person in that room who didn’t fall in love with you.” Louis hiccuped wetly, burying her face in Harry’s neck. Harry stood there, stiff, mind racing with the implications of Louis’ words. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis said into her skin, words sinking down through her muscles and into her bones. “I’m sorry I left you, I’m sorry I can’t have you, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. She pulled Louis closer, hanging on for dear life. This moment was far too precious to be happening in a piss-stained alley in a human’s armpit city, she thought, somewhat hysterically. It deserved sunshine and flowers and bees, not… cement and cigarette smoke and desperation. 

Louis pressed closer still, the distance between their bodies closing. Harry felt her chest against hers, felt Louis’ fast breaths, felt her heartbeat against her own. It felt so familiar she ached with it. 

Louis took a deep breath in, nose pressed against her jaw. “How is it that you still smell the same, after all this time?” she asked, voice a second away from breaking. 

Harry couldn’t resist turning her head into Louis’ hair, nosing her way to the spot behind Louis’ ear that she liked best. “You do, too, Louis.” It wasn’t a lie.

Louis reacted almost violently to that, shaking her head enough dislodge Harry. “I wouldn’t. I’m not the same.”

Harry tried to calm her with soft touches, but Louis stepped out of Harry’s hold, agitated. 

“I’m not the same, Harry,” she repeated, dragging a hand through her fringe. Harry reached out to her again, worried by the dangerous way Louis was swaying. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick–” was as far as the other girl got before she turned and vomited on the wall next to the bin. The group of smokers started cheering, but they stopped when Harry shot them a scathing look. 

“Louis, it’s ok, just take a deep breath,” she said, rubbing soothing circles into Louis’ back. She didn’t really know what to do in this situation; the only vomiting she’d had to deal with was when she helped nurse the village baby. Fae just didn’t get sick. They must, though, if Louis was here spilling her stomach onto the brickwork of this building. “It’s gonna be okay, just breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbled again, taking a few shaky breaths and leaning against the wall for support. 

Harry cupped her hand and conjured up some water. Really, she was borrowing it from one of the jugs inside, but it was a simple enough spell that it didn’t require much energy or concentration. 

“Here, drink this,” she soothed, pulling Louis closer to her chest. Louis took her hand gently and sipped at the water. Harry pressed a kiss into her messy hair. “Do you feel better?”

Instead of answering, Louis started shivering.

She whispered something into Harry’s chest, and if it weren't to for Harry's excellent hearing she surely would have missed it. “I wish I deserved you, Harry.”

Harry frowned. That didn't–why would Louis think–

“It's time to get you home, I think,” Harry said, pushing her thoughts aside. Louis needed help right now, not more questions. “Are you alright to walk? Just for a little while.”

Louis nodded, sniffling sadly. 

Harry pulled them into the pub, waving to the band as she passed. They looked a little concerned, but Harry just smiled and kept walking. She’d find the time to say goodbye to them later. 

She had a horrible thought, then, something dark and desperate.

_ Louis’ so out of it right now,  _ it said, slithering it's way through her insides,  _ she won't even notice if you took her back home.  _

Harry shook herself. No. It didn't matter what the consequences were, Louis coming back with her had to be a choice. Something she made willingly, knowingly. 

If she didn't want Harry, then she didn't want her. Harry would have to live with that.

But Louis’ words in the alley… everything she’d let slip so far, everything that Harry had managed to parse from between the cracks in Louis’ walls, none of it told her she  _ didn't  _ want Harry. Only that, for some reason, she  _ couldn't.  _

And that was all Harry needed to know.

“Liam!” Harry pulled on the girls hand, finally managing to stop her in the crowd. Liam turned to her attentively, frowning when she took in Louis’ sorry state.

“Shit, what happened?” she asked, then pressed a careful palm to Louis’ forehead. Louis blinked at her sadly. 

“I threw up,” she answered before Harry could.

“We need to get her home,” Harry said firmly.

Liam nodded, already gathering up the rest of the girls. “I’ll call us an uber.”

Harry nodded. “I guess I'll just…” she trailed off, looking between Louis and Liam. She felt awkward, all of a sudden; trying to take care of Louis when she already had people she'd chosen to do that for her. People who weren’t Harry.

“Nooooooo, baby, please stay, don't leave me,” Louis babbled, sensing Harry start to pull away. Harry swallowed thickly.  _ Baby. _

“Are you sure?” she asked, cupping Louis’ jaw and making eye contact. 

Louis’ eyes were still wet, hair an absolute mess. She still looked beautiful. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

“Come on, let's go,” Liam ushered everyone out. Zayn and Niall were doing their best to stay upright. It involved a lot of swaying and giggling. Liam seemed the only sober one of the bunch.

They piled into the uber haphazardly. There weren’t enough seats, so Harry pulled Louis into her lap and wrapped her arms around her middle securely. Louis, for her part, seemed one blink away from falling asleep against Harry’s neck. Harry felt pathetic for treasuring the contact between them, the feeling of Louis’ body curled up against her own. She wasn't proud of the way she clung to her, but she had to take what she could get at this point. 

The car ride was a quiet affair. No one quite felt up to making small talk with their driver, or each other. 

Once they reached the apartment, Liam shuffled Zayn and Niall off to bed with a glass of water and some aspirin. Harry pulled Louis towards her bedroom, noticing that it was much messier than the last time Harry had been in here. She laid Louis down on her bed softly, pulled the blankets around her to tuck her in. 

Louis pressed her face against her pillow, then blinked up at her. “Harry,” she rasped, sounding a little more sober. 

Harry down up at her. “What do you need? More water?” 

She shook her head and held up the blanket in front of her. “Come here. Please.”

Harry willed her hands not to shake. “Alright.”

She folded herself into the bed, shuffling back so Louis’ front was pressed along her back. Louis tucked the blanket back around her, making a contented noise as she pulled Harry close with an arm around her waist.

Harry felt warm. Truly, deeply warm. How had it been that she'd been living in the cold this whole time? 

Harry counted her breaths, timed them as best she could to Louis’. The last thing she was aware of before sleep claimed her was a welcome, full shadow in the corner of the room, watching over them.


	7. Chapter 7

Louis’ mouth tasted like rotting squirrel. Her eyes felt glued shut, and there was a band of drummers playing merrily in her head.

Other than that, she was warmer and more content than she remembered ever being. She buried herself further into the body in front of her, still too out of it to register it as anything but  _ soft  _ and  _ mine. _

Then, Harry sniffled in her sleep. Louis’ eyes wrenched open, and she took in the mess of curly brown hair in front of her face.

Last night came to her in flashes. Harry's performance, her song, getting  _ trashed, _ throwing up, then… embarrassing herself. Of course.

Louis looked around the room in confusion, finally registering that it was still dark. She wondered what had woken her, but then she felt the urgent pressing of her bladder, and the mystery was solved. 

Extracting herself from Harry was its own series of obstacles. First, she had to work up the courage to leave the warm cocoon of the bed, then she had to pull her arm free from Harry’s waist without waking her, then somehow crawl on newly hungover limbs out of the blankets and into the bathroom across the living room. 

After she’d taken a piss, the volume of which was frankly terrifying—how did that fit inside her body, jesus—she splashed her face with water and studied her reflection. 

Getting drunk hadn't solved anything. Running away hadn't solved anything. Burying her feelings  _ definitely  _ hadn't solved anything. She was still the same tired, sad, human girl with bags under her eyes and messy cropped hair that she was when she'd arrived at Liam's door two long years ago.

If something was finally going to change, it was up to her to make it happen. If Harry didn't want her after all was said and done, if she went back to her family anyway, then. Well.

At least Louis would know that's what she'd chosen. She’d never have to wonder about what could have been.

When Louis pushed the door to her room back open, it was to find Harry sitting upright in her bed. She was still wearing her clothes from last night—they both were—and the glitter of her jumpsuit shone in the soft moonlight. She’d been rifling through her satchel, it seemed, a couple items of clothing strewn across Louis’ already messy floor, and her head was bent as she studied a Polaroid in her hand.

Louis pressed the door shut behind her and leaned against it.

Harry still didn't look up.

Louis sighed. She started talking. 

“The night before the Spring Festival, I couldn't sleep. I left you in your bed to get some fresh air.” Louis swallowed. She'd only just begun, but it took all of her strength to keep going after the broken look Harry turned up at her. “I was just in our field, staring at the stars. Thinking about how lucky I was, to have finally gotten to be close to you after years of longing and hoping. That’s where the Queen found me.” 

Harry's eyebrows rose. Louis fiddled with her fringe. This was the part she'd never told anyone, not another living soul.

“She was with her ladies in waiting, scoping the place out before her grand arrival the next day. She asked me who I was, and I told her. But then she did this thing… she took my chin and looked between my eyes. Then she said to me, ‘You are no fae. How did you invade my village,  _ human _ ?’”

Louis stared at her feet, not wanting to face the betrayal she was sure was painted all over Harry’s face.

“I swear I didn't know. Not til she stripped my glamour away, saw through whatever had been cast on me as a child. She took me to the well, told me that Brigid would tell me where I belonged, that I couldn't–I wasn't allowed to stay any longer, where I wasn't welcome. It was… fucking awful, 'f I'm honest,” Louis laughed sadly. “So fucking dark and cold, and there was just a mess of words and noises and pictures, and I'm sure that I was screaming for it to stop. When she pulled me out, she told me to leave. And I was so scared, I just… did. I ran. I’d gotten enough from the divination to understand where I was supposed to be going, but all I could think about was how my life had been a lie. I'm not Fae. I'm a human that was stolen, and I have no fucking clue who did it since no one in the village knew where I'd come from.”

Louis squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Harry stand from the bed, approach her slowly. 

“So… who–” she asked in confusion.

“Liam.” Louis looked up finally, finding steady green eyes hidden behind a mane of brown curls. “Liam’s a changeling. She doesn't know, I didn't want… I didn't want her to feel like I did, like I didn't belong. Her parents are lovely. They don't… know, either.”

Harry took another step forward. “So, all this time… You’ve just been keeping this secret?”

Louis nodded. She was still waiting for Harry’s rejection, for her inevitable disgust. She’d worked hard to build up her self-worth, she’d created a new identity and life for herself as a human. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never purge the dark thought at the back of her head that reared itself whenever she looked at Harry. 

_ How could a human like me be worthy of an  _ aes sidhe _?  _

Harry’s mouth turned down at the corners. Louis’ took a deep breath in preparation. 

“Oh, love,” Harry whispered sadly. “You must be so tired.”

Louis froze. “I am,” she answered, slowly and unsurely. 

Harry reached for her suddenly, long arms closing themselves around her back and folding her into Harry’s body. Louis shuddered involuntarily, blaming it on how delicate she was still feeling after last night.

It was already dark in the room, but when Louis pressed her head into Harry’s neck she could pretend that she was asleep again, safe in a dark cocoon. 

Harry stroked her hair fondly. “I’m sorry,” she said into Louis’ ear.

Louis pushed back. “Why? Harry, no, I’m the one–”

“Stop.” 

Harry’s voice was flat. Louis hadn’t heard her be truly, honestly angry before, not like this. Harry always kept her anger locked away where no one could be hurt by it, especially herself. Louis had watched her endure the most frustrating ordeals with nothing but resigned disappointment. Yet, here Harry was. Pissed the fuck off. 

“Stop pushing me away, Louis. Just. Stop it. I don’t wanna hear any bullshit about not deserving me, because that’s just not true. You deserve  _ better  _ than me, you deserve an army at your feet and a thousand doting wives and–I don’t know, a dragon or something, that’s not–”

Louis couldn’t help herself; she laughed. It was a delicate situation, but it was also 3am and she was tired and Harry was saying the loveliest, most ridiculous things, and she  _ didn’t hate her. _

The storm that had clouded Harry’s face passed the instant Louis’ giggle left her lips. Harry stopped, a slow smile making its way across her face. She twisted her lips like she was trying to will it away, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. 

“I’m trying to make a grand speech about your worth, boobear,” Harry said long-sufferingly. “It’s quite rude to laugh.”  
  
Louis hid her smile behind her hand. “I’m sorry,” she answered, trying to school her face. 

“Can I continue?” Harry asked, putting on a haughty expression and crossing her arms. 

“I think it’s my turn, Harry,” Louis said, and Harry gestured for her to go ahead. 

Louis reached forward, clasping Harry’s hands between her own. She took a deep breath, suddenly glad she’d cleaned her teeth so her mouth wouldn’t have to taste like rot while she laid her heart bare. 

“Sweetheart,” Louis started, somehow already choked up. “It’s lovely that you think I deserve a thousand wives, but I really only want one. She’s tall, and strong, and sweet, and soft, and  _ brave _ . Ever since we were girls, she captured my dreams and my heart. If I had an eternity to gaze upon her face, it wouldn’t be long enough. And she’s standing right here,” Louis looked up at Harry’s stunned face through her eyelashes, squeezing their joined hands, “and she still doesn’t know how much I love her. And it’s my own fucking fault, that, but… What I mean to say, is,” she coughed. She stepped closer. Harry’s eyes bore into hers, captivated. “I’m in love with you, and I’d like it if you stayed.”

Harry cleared her throat. Louis waited patiently for Harry to blink the tears from her eyes. 

“Louis,” she rasped out after several long seconds. “It wasn’t a competition, but you’ve definitely won.”

Louis snorted softly. “What’s my prize?” 

Harry leant forwards with intent, nuzzling into Louis’ cheek and trailing her lips towards her ear. Louis leant into it, releasing a frankly embarrassing noise. “Me.”

Louis threw her arms around Harry’s neck. “Yeah?” she asked, face alight with hope. 

Harry smiled back. “Yeah, Louis. I’m yours.” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Louis couldn’t let that kind of sass stand. She decided to shut Harry up with the perfect punishment: a kiss. 

The first gentle press of their mouths together felt like skin against skin, like an embrace between lovers. But when Louis opened her mouth to Harry, when the kiss deepened. 

Then it felt like coming home. 


	8. Chapter 8

They went back to sleep after that, because even though they still had a lot to discuss, it was pitch black outside and they were both exhausted. Louis lay on her back and Harry curled up on her side, head resting on Louis’ chest. She listened to Louis’ heartbeat beneath her ear, felt Louis’ deep, even breaths as she slept peacefully. But... Harry couldn’t join her in sleep, too distracted by all the thoughts and words and feelings echoing around her head like a cacophony of sound.

_It seems Brigid has given you a task to complete. You will do so before your ceremony._

Harry rose from the bed with care.

Louis slept soundly.

 

❧❧❧

 

Louis came to with a sickening lurch. She lifted herself up, wondering what had woken her so violently. Then, she noticed the empty bed beside her, Harry’s things missing from the floor next to it.

She pressed a hand into the cold sheets where Harry had lain last night, breath caught in her throat.

“Harry?” she called. If the other girl was anywhere in the apartment, she'd be able to hear her; Louis knew just how thin these walls were.

But there was no response.

 _Of course she left,_ a dark voice in Louis’ head whispered. _What else did you expect, for her to_ love _you?_

Louis’ hand curled in the sheets, grounding herself in reality.

Because, yes. She did fucking expect that. _I’m yours,_ Harry had said, and Louis had known she’d meant it.

She heard a door opening in the apartment somewhere, faint footsteps.

Louis shifted on the bed, preparing to stand so she’d make a less pitiful sight for whichever of the girls was coming to check on her.

But then, her hand brushed against something under her pillow. Several somethings, actually.

She frowned, pulled the items into the light.

It was a Polaroid photo and two intricately carved beads. _Harry’s_ beads, for her ceremony: love and hope.

When Louis took in the photo, her eyes widened. It was of Louis, fast asleep against her pillow, mussed hair and a serene expression on her face. Harry’s hand was in the frame as well, placed delicately on Louis’ cheek like some kind of cruel caress. Harry had had her Polaroid camera since they were children; Louis had seen her care for it, protect it like a jealous pisky hoarding it's acorns.

Louis frowned, flipped the polaroid over. There was indeed something scrawled on the back; a lopsided love heart.

Louis was still studying the photo, head racing with what the _fuck_ Harry was trying to tell her with it, when Liam opened her bedroom door.

“Louis?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and one of Niall’s hoodies.

Louis looked up at her. She set her jaw, pressing the photo against her chest protectively.   
  
“Liam,” she started, no room for questions in her tone. “I need you to borrow your sister’s car.”

Liam lowered her hand slowly, eyes tracking Louis' movement as she pulled on clothes and shoes.

“What for?”

Louis pushed past her, making for the bathroom. She hastily ran a brush through her hair then splashed some water on her face.

Liam followed her, determined. “Louis, where are we going?”

Louis looked at her, finally. “We’re getting Harry back.”

Liam frowned. She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but she was interrupted.

“Back?! Where's she gone!”

Niall was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, bedraggled hair and a fiery expression on her face.

Zayn appeared from behind her, looking equally bleary and pissed off.

“She's gone back home, Niall. And for once in my life I’m gonna get off my big arse and do something about it.” Louis stood her ground, hands on her hips.

Niall blinked, pride overtaking her face. “Fuck. Yes.”

Zayn slung a lazy hand around Niall’s waist. “We’re coming, too.”

Liam finally found her words. “I’ll drive you, Louis, of course I will, but are you sure? Did she maybe… Reject you?”

Louis crossed her arms impatiently. “I don't know, Liam, does saying she would love me forever last night then fucking off in the morning sound like a rejection to you?”

Liam’s face pinched. “Kind of?”

Louis waved her arms. “Exactly! It makes no sense. That's why I'm gonna find her and shake her and kiss her and maybe kick her up the ass.”

Niall turned to Zayn, muttering, “That's our girl.”

Louis smiled at her then rolled her eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Now come on, lads, we’ve got a homecoming to crash.”

 

❧❧❧

 

“Are you sure you don't want us to drive you further?”

Harry smiled at Mitch, leaning between the front seats to ruffle his hair. “Here is good, Mitch. It's just a short walk through the forest.”

Sarah turned in the passenger seat to send her a searching look.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said firmly. “Thank you both so much for agreeing to drive me.”

Sarah laughed softly. “Well, you knock on our door at five am begging to be dropped off in a random forest, how can we say no?”

Harry snorted. She unbuckled her seat belt. The soft ticking noise of the indicator was starting to be grating, and she didn't want to waste any more time.

Mitch cleared his throat as Harry's hand settled on the door handle.

“We’ll see you on Monday for practice, right, Harry?”

Harry looked at her friends, the hopeful expression on their faces. She smiled thinly.

“Of course.”

The door made a soft click as she pulled it open.

“Thank you,” Harry said, stalling for some unknown reason.

Mitch grinned at her. “You already said that, dickhead.”

Harry grinned back. She slammed the door shut then took a step backwards. Her feet met grass, and she almost cried with how good it felt, to have something other than human stone beneath her.

She waved goodbye as the car pulled back onto the road, kept waving until they were just a speck on the horizon.

Then, she heaved a deep sigh. She turned her gaze to the forest behind her, sizing up the trees and the shadows they cast.

Fresh air tasted like _something,_ now that she’d had the opposite. It used to just taste like nothing, like air. Now, Harry took a deep breath of it. It definitely tasted like _fresh_ air.

She took a step towards the treeline, then another, then another.

The leaves rustled in the wind, a soft susurrus of greeting. She greeted them back, and every animal she passed. They didn’t know her, but they recognised her kind.

It was a long walk back to the mountain, and Harry passed the time daydreaming.

Then, when her daydreams turned into anxious worrying, she passed the time thinking about nothing at all, whistling to herself, singing the tunes she’d learned from Chasm.

Some of the birds quite liked her singing, but the trees were mostly indifferent.

Not that Harry could talk to trees, she just… got the vibe.

As Harry neared the mountain, she ran a shaky hand through her loose curls. They were unkempt and unwashed, like the rest of her. She hadn't exactly stopped to shower, too plagued with thoughts of her ceremony and the seelie queen.

The same seelie queen who was in the cavern somewhere, waiting like the rest of Harry's family for her swift return.

Harry gulped. She took a final step forward, arriving in the clearing of her and Louis’ childhoods.

It was just as she'd left it. She didn't know why she'd expected it to have changed. A bumblebee floated past her face, lazily making its way over to its next floral snack.

Harry took a deep breath. She fidgeted with her hair one last time.

Then, she headed towards the secret entrance to the mountain, hidden behind an ancient glamour. Harry stepped through the false vines, shivering as she always did with the feeling of magic that coursed through her.

The pathway was dark, but Harry knew it like she knew her own voice. She'd run this passage in the dead of night with a giggling Louis clinging to her hand. She'd run it in broad daylight with tears streaming down her face and an empty heart.

It was about noon, so the cavern was lit up beautifully when Harry stepped through. The sunlight floated through the opening in the roof, amplified by the magic of her ancestors. The grass was growing happily, and the villagers were gathered in groups to weave and make music and tell stories intertwined with magic.

They didn't look up at first, so engaged with their day to day activities.

Then, one of the four children in the village happened to glance her way, and loudly announced her presence.

“Harry!” she cried, running over and throwing her little arms around Harry's waist. “You're back!”

Harry knelt down and embraced her. “Hiya, Lux. How have you been?” she asked, stroking the girl’s hair fondly.

Lux pulled back. “Everyone's been weird because the queen's here,” she stage whispered.

Harry snuck a glance at the rest of the villagers. They seemed to have stopped their tasks to watch her, expressions a rainbow of relief, contempt, curiosity, and apathy.

It wasn’t the most welcoming atmosphere. Harry hadn't expected anything different; she loved her home and her family, but ever since Louis’ departure she hadn't been the most popular with the rest of the villagers. She’d learned to tune it out.

Harry saw one of the women in the weaving circle break off and depart through the northern tunnel—fetching the Queen, no doubt.

“Do you know where Anne or Gemma are, love?” Harry asked Lux.

She frowned. “They just went to fetch some water from the stream, they–”

“Harry?!”

Harry looked up. Anne was standing by the entrance to the southern tunnel, basket of water perched on her hip and a gobsmacked Gemma by her side.

“Harry's back!” Lux called over to them, a much quicker reaction speed than Harry was capable of.

Harry stood and waved meekly. “Hi.”

Gemma sprinted towards her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. Harry returned the hug eagerly, squeezing just as tight. She heard the sound of Anne placing her basket on the ground less than carefully, and another pair of arms soon added to the cuddle.

“Your ceremony isn’t for a couple days, we didn’t think we’d see you yet!” Gemma said, pulling back.

Harry smiled at her, then at her mum. She watched as Anne’s teary, joyful face turned concerned.

“Harry,” she started, concern morphing into grief. “Where’s Louis?”

Harry’s brow creased, and she swallowed back tears brought on by the pain in her mother’s voice. Anne looked behind Harry, around the cavern, like Louis might appear unexpectedly from behind a rock or something.

“She’s not coming, mum,” Harry whispered brokenly. There was a moment of shocked silence.

Then, Anne clapped a hand over her mouth. Gemma turned away for a second, and Harry watched her shoulders shake. She turned back with tears in her eyes and dragged Harry into another crushing hug.

“Baby, what happened?” Anne asked mournfully.

“The Queen is already displeased, Harry,” Gemma choked into Harry’s hair. “You’ll be banished for this.”

Harry opened her mouth to explain, to offer some small comfort. But, she was interrupted by a blinding light that spread across the cavern. She shielded her eyes, as did everyone else, and when the light cleared after a long moment, the Seelie Queen was standing in the centre of the cavern, resplendent and maleficent.

 

❧❧❧

 

“Louis, are you sure you know where you’re going?”

Louis turned to Niall. “Of course I do, dickhead, I only fucking grew up here,” she snapped back defensively. Really, she was only about eighty percent sure.

Niall threw her hands up in surrender, turning to mutter something to Liam.

Louis ignored her, turning back to the trail she was blazing and marching on ahead. She’d tried— _oh,_ had she tried—to leave the girls in the car, but they’d pouted and whined so bloody much that she’d agreed to take them most of the way. They obviously couldn’t come into the mountain, but maybe they could wait outside like well-behaved friends, and not ask any difficult questions about why Harry and Louis grew up in a mountain three hours from the nearest road.

Hopefully.

“Niall’s right, Louis, this doesn’t feel like the right way,” come Liam’s voice.

Louis paused. She turned to her slowly, looking her up and down. “What do you mean by that, Liam?” she asked curiously.

Liam looked uncomfortable. She shrugged and glanced around at the other girls for guidance. When none came, she sighed. “I don’t know, Lou, it just… It feels like we need to go _that_ way instead.” She pointed North-West.

Louis raised her eyebrows.

“Alright, you heard the woman,” she snapped, turning to face the direction Liam had pointed. “We’re going this way now."

“Liam has a gut feeling and she’s right, but Niall asks one question and she’s a dickhead,” Niall muttered with good-natured sarcasm.

“Yep!” Louis called over her shoulder. “Now come on, we’re nearly there.”

 

❧❧❧

 

Anne stepped in front of Harry, then Gemma joined her.

“My Queen,” Anne said, as graciously as was required of her. “Please spare my daughter. She–”

The Queen took a menacing step forward. Her long dress—a deep, blood red, filled with ruffles and pleats—flowed behind her as she did.

“Harry can speak for herself, Anne, she is nearly of age,” the Queen remarked dismissively.

Gemma made to speak, but Harry had had enough.

She stepped around her family, back straight and expression fierce.

“My Queen,” she spat, like the insult that it was. “I find it ironic that you expect me to speak for myself when you’ve done nothing to earn my words.”

A heavy silence fell across the cavern, everyone’s breaths held. The Queen looked like she’d been slapped; no one had ever dared to address her in this way.

Harry gathered her strength and her magics, shielding herself for anything that the Queen might cast on her. She knew, of course, that the Queen was more powerful than she could ever dream to be. Her self-protection spell would have been as easy to cut through as a petal to a knife, if it weren’t for the swelling of magic that Anne and Gemma sent to her through the ground, a silent offering of strength and solidarity. Harry gathered it to herself, added it to her own, and took a step forward.

The Queen seemed to readjust, then; re-centre and restrategise. Her voice was cool when she next spoke. “You have returned without completing your task, Child. You insult both your Queen and Brigid in doing so.”

Harry scoffed. “The only insult is you, _My Queen._ You sent me to find Louis when you knew full well where she was and why she had gone.”

Harry heard several of the villagers gasp. She turned her back on the Queen to look around the cavern and address them all.

“Louis was a human. She was stolen as a baby by one of our kind, and given to our village. She was innocent in all of this, and when the Queen found out she had her banished without a single word to the ones that loved her.” She turned back to the Queen. “Do you deny this?”

The Queen inspected the looks of betrayal and horror on the villager’s faces with an air of disdain.

“I do not.”

Harry almost stumbled with the swell of magic that was sent to her at the Queen's admission of guilt. She could feel Bebe’s, and her aunt’s, and many that she didn’t even recognise. It was almost too much to handle, the weight of it all. But then she caught her breath, found her own magic in the noisy assortment of others, and gathered it all into herself.

“Why would you send me on a task that was doomed to fail? Louis was _banished,_ I couldn’t bring her back no matter what I did.”

The Queen looked unmoved. “I did not assign you that task, child. The blessed divination showed you what you needed to see, and you interpreted it as you wanted.”

Harry was taken aback. Because… she wasn’t wrong. Harry _had_ assumed that being told where she could find Louis meant she was supposed to bring her back.

And the Queen couldn’t have interfered with that without exposing what she’d done.

As Harry considered this, she felt a tug at all of her gathered magics. It didn't feel like someone attacking her, it just felt like…like her body was notifying her of something important. Harry chased the feeling and found it to be as familiar as her own skin.

“Harry!”

Everyone in the cavern turned. Louis stood at the entrance, chest heaving.

She met Harry's shocked gaze evenly and started across the grass towards her.

Harry shot a panicked glance at the Queen, but she seemed content to watch this play out, arms crossed and brows raised.

Louis nodded to Anne and Gemma on her way past them, not slowing in her march towards Harry.

Harry was finding it hard to focus, with all of the strength of her friends and family coursing through her. The image of Louis' graceful, purposeful walk seemed a little blurry around the edges, so she blinked a few times.

“Louis–”

“Harry fucking Styles,” Louis interrupted, stopping a few paces from Harry. “I am so mad at you right now.”

Harry blinked again, taking a step back in alarm.

Then Louis surprised her by throwing her arms around Harry’s neck. Harry staggered back under her weight a little, but wrapped her arms around Louis’ back on reflex.

Louis pressed a wet kiss to Harry's neck, then another to her jaw, hands framing her cheeks as she made her way towards her mouth.

She kissed Harry so softly, so lovingly that Harry almost forgot where she was, what she had come here to do.

Then, Louis leaned back a little. The fire in her eyes had gone out completely. Harry was heartbroken to see that it had been replaced by sadness and insecurity.

“Why did you leave, baby?”

The Queen’s patience ran out. “To defend your honour like a foolhardy Knight from the days of Arthur, it seemed,” she drawled. She turned her cold gaze on Louis, assessed her with a grimace. “Louis Tomlinson. You have returned to this sacred village after being banished, and your very presence is a threat to the lives of our people.” A sarcastic grin stretched across her face, and her next statement aimed as much at Harry as it was at Louis. “Do you deny this?”

This was the moment Louis should drop her head in obedience, bow and grovel as was expected of her. Accept that she was trespassing, that she was _lesser._

But Louis did none of those things.

She held her chin high as she stepped between the Queen and Harry.

When she spoke, it wasn't with the righteous fury or the sharp wit that Harry associated with Louis when she felt cornered. She just sounded… over it.

“Get fucked.”

Harry blinked at her.

There was a few small twitters across the cavern, rapt onlookers trying to contain their laughter.

“Your actions weren't that of a leader. They were the actions of a coward. And they almost cost me the most important person in my life. So. Get fucked.” Louis crossed her arms and nodded, as if to punctuate her words.

Then, she did something absolutely reckless and brave and _powerful_ : she turned her back on the Queen. She turned her back as if she couldn't break every bone in Louis’ body with a single spell, as if Louis was the one with all the power in that moment.

It was so fucking stupid.

Harry was so in love with her.

“Harry–” she started, then she froze. It was an unnatural stiffness that passed over her body, like she'd been turned to stone.

Harry glanced frantically at the Queen over Louis’ shoulder, jumping between her and Louis like she could protect her, like the damage hadn’t already been done. The Queen had her palm outstretched, fingers clenched, and a hard look on her face.

“My Queen, please–” Harry heard Gemma say, making to intervene.

The Queen just blinked and waved her free hand. Suddenly, vines burst from the ground in a circle around Harry, Louis and the Queen, growing and twisting and joining at a rapid speed until they became a thick barrier between them and the rest of the villagers.

Harry was unsteady on her feet, eyes wide and unblinking from both the immense display of power and the flooding of strength she received from others in the village; at least half of them had leant her their magics, at this point.

“Harry,” the Queen said, managing to sound both placating and aggravating.

“Undo it,” Harry interrupted. She placed a gentle hand on Louis’ frozen cheek, then turned a scathing glare at the queen. “Unfreeze her.”

The Queen sighed. “I'm going to offer you a choice,” she continued, as if Harry had never butted in. “You can let this human go from your life and your heart, and I will take her memories of you and this place. She'll live a happy life with her own kind. Or,” she added, waving her hand flippantly, “you can use all of that magic your people have gifted you so graciously, and change her— _transform_ her—into an ever living one, so she may be allowed to stay here by your side.”

Harry’s mind reeled. How had she been so foolish as the think the Queen wouldn't have felt her strength grow with every member of her village's magical blessing. She looked at Louis, her frozen face and unseeing eyes. Usually so full of life and warmth, Louis’ features were almost unrecognisable. Harry pressed her forehead against hers, shivering.

She had no idea what to do; this decision was too big for her to make alone. Yet, she couldn’t stand to lose Louis, not when she’d worked so hard to get her back.

It wasn't much of a choice.

“I'm being merciful to offer you this, Harry,” the Queen said. Harry wondered why she felt the need to justify herself to her. “If I were less magnanimous, I wouldn't even consider letting a _human_ join our kind. So–”

But Harry had stopped listening. There was something in the way she'd spat the word ‘human’, like something that was primitive, _wrong_. It gave Harry pause, sent something itching under her skin; she was reminded of Louis’ face when she'd told Harry of her true heritage, like she was awaiting Harry’s inevitable rejection.

Like a fae could never love a human, something so far below them, so _inferior,_ when it was them who had hid from the world for thousands of years; them who were dying out, buried in their mountain like worms in the dirt.

And so Harry made her choice.

“I love you,” she whispered into Louis’ frozen ear, still steadfastly ignoring the Queen’s speech about her boundless generosity.

Harry closed her eyes and pulled all of her magics together, sharpening them into a spell.

“Ah, you've chosen to turn her. Very wise, Harry,” she heard the Queen say.

From behind Harry's eyelids, the room seemed to get brighter. At first she thought perhaps she was causing it, but she still hadn't cast her spell. She realised, as she heard the noise of vines falling to the ground, that the Queen had unmade her barrier.

Harry blocked out all the reactions from the villagers, channeling her energy into power. There wasn’t really a guidebook in how to do something like this; she’d certainly never been taught anything similar. She was forced to improvise, craft a spell that relied upon brute strength rather than finesse. There wasn’t enough time for the latter, but she had the former in spades.

Once she was ready enough to cast, she opened her eyes. She met her mother’s scared gaze evenly from across the cavern, taking in her perfect, smooth face, her luscious brown hair bound in braids, the grip she had on Gemma’s hand.

 _“Are you ever going to die, mama?”_ she remembered asking, when she was still just a little one clinging to her mother’s skirt with boundless energy and the curiosity to match.

Harry smiled at her mother as warmly as the woman had done that day, grief and mourning and mortality a thousand miles away and the world at her feet.

Then, she cast the spell. The magic flowed through her in waves, seeming to fill her every pore, angry and painful and _heavy_. It settled itself into her like a stone, a crushing force.

She collapsed under the weight of it, falling like to the ground like a felled tree. A felled, writhing tree.

“What?” the Queen gasped.

If Harry weren't in so much agony, she'd feel smug about the shock in her voice.

“Harry!? What's happening to her, what did you do,” Harry heard Louis yell.

_Louis._

“She did this to herself, child,” the Queen spat.

Harry's vision was nothing but white, and all her bones felt like they were being broken and reformed one by one. She didn't react as Louis gathered her into her lap, started stroking her hair.

“Is she okay? What happened?”

That was her mother's voice. She pulled Harry’s unresponsive hand towards her, cradling it to her chest.

Harry felt the sensation of her hand being squeezed as if through a pane of glass. All that she was aware of was a numbness that had spread across her skin, claiming her and threatening to pull her under.

“Harry, love, it’s going to be alright,” Louis cooed into her ear.   
  
Harry became aware that the distant whimpering noises she could hear were coming from her own mouth.

Louis shifted Harry in her hold gently, addressing someone behind her. “Can’t you fucking help her or something?”

Harry tried to focus on breathing, but it was so hard when her ribs were made out of stone.

“I cannot interfere, human. The spell must run its course,” the Queen replied.

Louis flung out another curse, gripping Harry tighter in her frustration. “What spell _was_ it, you–”

The pain reached a crescendo, then. Harry felt as if her skin was being peeled off and all her muscles were being stripped off her bones. She threw her head back and screamed.

“Shhh, darling,” she heard through the ringing in her ears. She could no longer tell who was speaking, if it was her mother or Gemma or Louis.

The whiteness that had encapsulated her vision was interrupted by movement, shadow. There was something black pressing urgently against her mind, even through the pain. Harry chased it, eager for the distraction, for even a moment's reprieve.

The more she followed it, this zone of perfect blackness, the more the pain seemed to fade away. It felt like she was being led somewhere nicer.

She chased and chased, and the closer she got the louder everything became. Louis’ fingers carding through her hair, the moss-covered stone beneath her legs, Gemma’s soft and slightly hiccup-y singing, her mother’s platitudes, a soft hand in hers.

The darkness faded, leaving a harsh brightness in its wake.

Harry opened her eyes.

“Hazza!” Louis exclaimed tearfully. She bent over to press a frantic kiss to Harry’s forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

“Harry, baby, are you alright? We were so worried,” her mother said, adding to Louis’ assault by pressing several fast kisses to her head.

“What did you do, dork?” Gemma asked, shaking Harry’s leg a little.

Harry blinked at her, noticing how distraught she seemed, even through her joking tone.

She pushed herself up into an unsteady sitting position, then pressed the heel of her palm into her head.

“I’m fine, I just have a little bit of a headache,” Harry rasped out. She cleared her throat and rubbed at her eyes.

Then, she paused. She lowered her hand slowly to meet three very shocked gazes, and one knowing gaze several metres off.

“A… headache?” Her mother asked with confusion and dawning horror.

“Harry, you didn’t…” Louis started, shuffling away with wide eyes.

Harry reached for her, grabbing one of her hands and pressing it to her chest. She ran her fingers over Louis’ skin, as if to banish the sensation of it frozen beneath her fingertips. Then, she looked into Louis’ panicked eyes.

“I did. I made myself human.”

Louis wrenched her hand back and shoved herself to her feet, hands clenched in her short hair. She looked… stricken. Anne and Gemma stood as well, clinging to each other for support. Harry pushed herself to her feet unsteadily, almost stumbling, so at least she could meet the judging faces of her loved ones with dignity.

“Why? Harry, why didn’t you turn me?” Louis demanded.

Harry saw some of the villagers crowd closer a little, like they couldn’t wait to follow along with the drama now that the possibility of violence was off the table. Harry swallowed her disgust, tuned out the grief on her family’s faces, tuned out the Queen’s intrigued expression, and focused on Louis.

“Because there’s nothing wrong with you,” Harry snapped. She was tired and sore and heavy and there was an angry mole burrowing its way through her brain; she didn’t have the patience for tact. “The fact that you’re human is a part of you, and I love _every_ single part of you. And if I made you an _aes sidhe_ , made you give up your life and your friends then–” she deflated a little, taking a gasping breath. “Then I never would have been able to prove that to you. And I wouldn't have been any better than _her,”_ Harry added, gesturing to the Queen’s now pinched expression. 

Louis hid her face in her hands, her whole body folding in on itself. Harry wanted to go over to her, unsure if she was in pain, but she was still so unsteady on her feet.

“But Harry… You can’t stay here, now,” Anne interrupted. She looked to the Queen, whose swift nod confirmed it. “And your life will be so short, you’ll–” Anne choked up.

Gemma put a comforting arm around her waist, then finished her sentence with an equally distraught expression. “You’ll die _long_ before we do.”

Harry shook her still-pounding head. “I knew what I was doing when I made my choice, Gems,” she rasped out. “I’d rather die happy than live an eternity of loneliness. Provided,” she turned back to Louis, took the final step towards her and retrieved her hands from her face so she could look into her wet eyes, “that you’ll have me.”

Louis sniffed, a few tears escaping her eyes, then seemed to make a concerted effort to gather herself. She turned her palms in Harry’s hold so she could lace their fingers together, grip so tight Harry wondered if she was trying to fuse them together. Her skin felt so different now, to Harry; warm and real. _Everything_ felt more real.

When Louis spoke, her answer sounded like honey, like sunshine. “Of course, Harry. Of course I’ll have you.”   
  
Then, she leaned up. And with a simple kiss, Harry’s life was given away. It had been cut short the second she’d turned the spell on herself, but with Louis’ consent what remained was now hers and hers alone.

And even with her family’s saddened faces behind her, Harry couldn’t regret a thing.

The Queen made her presence known once more, walking towards Harry and Louis with in impassive expression. Harry’s hand remained steadfastly in Louis', and she watched the Queen approach with wariness.

“Children,” the Queen said, as graceful as ever. “You have–” she paused, seeming to have trouble deciding on her words. “Surprised me, today,” she settled on.

Harry felt her eyebrows raise; The Queen hadn’t made it sound like an insult.

“I will allow you the rest of the day to say your goodbyes. I will also allow you to keep your memories of this place—the same allowance I once gave to you, Louis. Don’t make me regret it.”

She punctuated her words with a flick of her wrist, conjuring a string in its wake. It was a long piece of hessian twine, and Harry’s eyes almost bugged out of her head when she recognised it.

“In deference to your… suffering,” she said, suddenly awkward, “I give you this final gift.” She presented Louis and Harry with the twine.

Louis accepted it reverently. “Isn’t this–”

“A handfasting string, for your marriage ceremony. I understand humans have their own strange customs for such things, but if you chose to bind your lives together in the way of our ancestors, then this twine has been enchanted to do that for you.”

Harry blinked a few times, staring at the twine, then at the Queen. Louis caught her gaze, then, and smiled at her. She pocketed the twine gently. 

“Brigid smiles upon you both, children. Never forget your blessings,” the Queen said with finality, then turned to address the villagers. “The spectacle is over. You may return to your activities.”

The villagers began to scatter after that, some following the Queen as she strode from the cavern. Many others did as instructed, turning back to their tasks and conversations, whilst some approached Harry and Louis to wish them well in their lives together.   
  
Harry found it hard to smile and thank everyone for their farewells and well-wishes, with the confusion she still felt.

Eventually, Harry was able to drag herself, her mother, and her sister away from the main cavern and into her bedroom.

“Well,” Anne said, looking about the empty room. She seemed to have gathered herself a little. “I suppose there’s no changing your mind.”

Harry snorted, then shook her head. She pulled Louis close, moulding her to her side.   
  
Gemma watched the action shrewdly.

“Did you have to pick this menace?” she said with a small grin, poking Louis in the stomach.

Louis poked her right back, and then the two laughed.

Anne cleared her throat, and the air turned serious again. “Harry, you truly couldn’t have picked a better young woman to be your lifemate. While I don’t forgive you for what you did,” she held her hand up to stop Harry’s interruption, then continued, “I understand why you did it. And I hope that you’ll both be incredibly happy in your lives together.”  
  
Louis pressed her face into Harry’s hair. Harry presumed it was to hide her expression at her mother’s words.

Then, she straightened with a renewed determination.

“You can be a part of our lives, if you want.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “I can show you how to work this—it’s a human communication device. You’ll be able to call us or video chat, you can… Keep in contact.”

She held out the phone with a hopeful tilt to her mouth. Harry’s heart was bursting with love.

Anne and Gemma shared a glance, and then Anne reached forward to accept the phone. “Thank you, Louis, this is… More than I could have hoped for.”

Louis smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Anne.”

The rest of Harry and Louis’ allotted day was spent showing Gemma and Anne how to use the phone—including a demonstration of the video chat function when Louis called Liam, Niall and Zayn to ask them to stay put for a couple of hours, which involved slightly more cursing than Harry was happy with her mother hearing. Afterwards, they went on one final walk around the village, Anne and Gemma content to let them say their goodbyes alone.

They strolled hand in hand through the caverns, reminiscing about their childhoods. It was bittersweet for Harry, to see the place she grew up knowing that she couldn’t ever return, but with a brighter future ahead of her.

They paused at the spring, listening to the constant, soft rushing noise of it as it echoed around the chamber.

“What do we do now, Louis?” Harry asked softly. She squeezed Louis’ hand instead of meeting her eyes, staring steadfastly at the rushing water. “I have no idea.”

Louis made a soft cooing noise and pressed up against Harry’s side. She brushed a loose curl behind Harry’s ear. “Harry, please look at me.”

Harry stared at her feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before I made myself human. I hope you know that you aren’t–” she fluttered her eyes up to meet Louis’ for just a second, then looked away again. “... _Obligated,_ or anything,” she stuttered out.

She didn’t really know where her sudden nerves had come from. Perhaps it was being here, in this chamber, where for years and years she’d pretended not to watch Louis bathe—all that smooth, glistening skin on display—out of fear of rejection, fear of losing her very best friend.

Louis huffed. She moved to stand in front of Harry, hand slipping from her grip so she could frame Harry’s cheeks with her palms. 

Harry still didn’t look up.

“Hey,” Louis said, soft as a petal coated in dew. “I spent two awful, lonely years thinking I would never see you again, convincing myself it was what I deserved. I know what insecure bullshit sounds like, believe me.” Harry choked on a laugh, finally meeting Louis’ searching gaze. “You asked me what we do now, yeah?” Harry nodded. “I have no fucking clue, baby,” Louis laughed. The entire chamber seemed to light up, just at the sound of it. “But I do know that I’m in love with you, and I don’t want you to waste a single second of your now _very short_ life thinking I would ever, _ever_ give you up.”

Harry’s shoulders loosened. She wrapped Louis up in her arms, no longer tentative, and pulled her into her embrace. Louis tucked her nose into Harry’s jaw, releasing a contented sigh against her skin. Harry smiled, nuzzled her face into Louis’ hair, then pressed her lips to her ear.

“ _Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down,”_ she sang quietly, barely able to get the words out around her wide, shit-eating grin.

Louis squawked. “Harry!” she laughed, pushing her away, “where did you learn that?”

Harry gripped Louis’ hands, not letting her push her too far. “Mitch showed me,” she said, still grinning. “Humans have the strangest jokes.”

Louis huffed out another laugh—softer, this time. “Well, you’re one of us, now, you’d better get used to it.” Then, she started humming the rest of the song under her breath, poking Harry in the stomach.

Harry giggled, poked her back. She reclaimed Louis’ hand so she could pull her out of the chamber.

No more lying in a pool of the past, crying about what was. It was time to stand up, dry off, and begin anew.

“I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left! Also i hope you rickroll fans liked that one its dedicated to you.


	9. Chapter 9

“Harry, you've done this a dozen times before.”

Harry rolled her eyes, fidgeting with her rings some more. She'd been in a pissy mood all day, much to Sarah, Mitch, Adam and Clare’s annoyance. 

“I know, Sarah,” she huffed, now fiddling with her hair. One side was done in three tight braids, while the other was loose. It no longer pooled by her waist, though; now, it lay just above her collarbones.

She’d complained and whined about how annoying having long hair was as a human—it got dirty so quickly, knotted and gross within a week of washing it, something she'd never had to deal with before—until Louis had dragged her out of bed at three am a few weeks ago. 

“I know it's annoying, baby, I'll fix it for you,” she'd said with far more patience than Harry deserved. She'd sat her down in the bathroom and taken a pair of scissors to Harry's locks, trimming it down with with care. 

Harry had been tired and emotional—her hair had never been cut for as long as she'd been alive, and being a human came with so many mood swings she was still trying to manage—so she'd cried a little, as Louis worked. 

Louis hadn't commented. She’d just cut Harry's hair (still much longer than Louis’), pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, smoothed her tears away, then dragged them back to bed. 

In the darkness of their bedroom— _ theirs, _ now—Louis had confessed she’d cried when she first cut her hair off too, a blunt pair of scissors in her hand and a Harry-sized hole in her heart. 

“At first I cut it off because it reminded me of everything I'd lost,” she whispered, fingers running through Harry’s now-shorter hair in a long, soothing strokes. Harry had stopped her pathetic sniffling the second Louis had started talking, eyes wide and fixed on Louis’ face. Or, where she thought Louis’ face was—her new human eyes were so weak in the moonlight. Louis paused for a moment before continuing, “but then, I learned about humans and their gender roles and shit, and I kinda… kept it, for me. It doesn't… I mean, you were so sad when you first saw it, would you rather I grew it back out?” she asked, suddenly nervous-sounding. 

Harry had leaned close, pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ surprised lips. “I love it like this,” she'd said, tangling her hand in Louis’ short hair. “And I only want you to do or be whatever  _ you  _ want. I'll always love you.”

Louis had been silent for several long seconds, then she'd rolled on top of Harry and kissed her with so much passion and care that Harry's head was swimming with it. They hadn't done much talking after that. 

Four months of being a human, and Harry loved Louis more and more every day. 

Now, here she was, about to sing for her largest audience so far, and all she could think about was the fact that Louis wasn't here. 

“We’re going on in ten, Harry, I need you to pull it together,” Adam said firmly, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. “You said you were in this for the long run. Well, tonight's our shot at that.”

Harry deflated. They'd only found out this afternoon about a rep from the independent label they'd been in conversation with for the past week who would be sitting somewhere amongst their fans tonight, waiting to see what they were made of. “I'm sorry, guys. I know tonight's important. It's just…”

Clare patted Harry on the shoulder. “Your girlfriend couldn't make it, huh?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, she couldn't get the night off work. Wait–how did you know?”

Clare shared a knowing look with the rest of the band. 

“Because you can usually never shut up about how she’s gonna be in the audience,” Mitch butted in, looking both fond and unamused, somehow. 

Harry pursed her lips. “Well, for your information,” she snapped back, gearing up for what was probably going to be a very embarrassing rebuttal. 

“She’s the love of your life, yes, Harry, we  _ know, _ ” Sarah interrupted, fiddling with her drumsticks nervously. “You can tell us all about the magical babies you’re going to eventually have later, okay? We need to go on stage.”

The stage manager nodded frantically from the wings. Harry hadn’t even noticed his arrival. 

She shook herself, dancing a little on the balls of her feet. Huge crowd, no Louis, no big deal. 

They took to the stage. 

And Harry  _ smashed it.  _

“Fuck yes!” Adam laughed as they run off after the encore, the noise of the crowd still ringing in their ears. “There’s no way we’re not getting an album deal after that, I’m putting good money on it.”

Harry threw her arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair. “No one’s taking that bet, Pendergast,” she shot back, still giddy. 

Then, she noticed three women standing in the corridor leading to the band’s shared dressing room. 

“Harry!” Liam cried, rushing forwards. Niall and Zayn hung back a little, wide smiles on their faces. 

Harry let go of Adam just in time to accept Liam’s crushing hug. Liam squeezed her firmly, lifting her off the ground a little. 

Harry giggled. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back to look between the three girls. Sarah, Mitch and Adam continued on down the hallway, no doubt eager to get a fresh shirt on and start a night of celebrating a gig well done. 

“Louis made us promise we would keep it a surprise, but we booked tickets ages ago,” Zayn said, hooking an arm around Harry’s waist. “I’m a bit offended you didn’t think we’d come, actually.”

Harry closed her gaping mouth. “Well, I…” she stuttered, slightly overwhelmed. She looked around at each of them, her wonderful girls. “Thank you. I love you all.”

When she'd chosen humanity a few short months ago, she'd really been choosing Louis, when it came down to it. And she obviously hadn't regretted that choice, but nothing was as easy as she thought it would be. She missed home more often than not: she missed her culture and her magic and her freedom. And that wasn't something that she could just ignore. But in that moment, looking at her friends, her  _family,_ she realised maybe her choice didn't have to be entirely about Louis after all. 

“Awwww,” Niall cooed, tickling Harry until she giggled and batted her hands away. “You big softie. C’mon, let’s go get drunk.”

Harry snorted and ushered them down the hall. There’d be no getting drunk for her, of course—something she’d discovered about her new human body was how entirely unpleasant feeling sick was, and ever since Louis and her had gotten trashed on cherry wine and she’d woken up with the world’s worst headache she’d sworn herself off alcohol—but dancing was always fun, and being around happy humans was always fun, and all of her friends were here.

All except one. Because as big of a revelation as it was that Harry had a support network of her own, it still didn't surpass the revelation—the  _miracle_ —that Harry felt every day she was lucky enough to be loved by Louis Tomlinson. 

By the time Harry and Liam dragged a very drunk Niall and Zayn back to the apartment, Louis had just gotten off shift. Harry tucked everyone into bed and cleaned up her and Louis’ room a little while she waited for her to come home. 

She may or may not have lit a few candles. That was between her and her gods. 

Harry didn’t have to wait very long before she heard the front door opening, the sound of muffled cursing as Louis grappled with the chain like she always did.  

Harry smiled, standing patiently in the middle of the bedroom. 

Louis pushed the door open. Harry’s eyes widened almost comically, taking in the beautiful bouquet of flowers Louis was holding—a pink, red, and white arrangement made of roses, carnations, and lilies. 

Louis thrust the flowers at Harry almost nervously, babbling, “they got a little crushed on the bus, I’m sorry, and don’t ask me what they say in that flower language thing because I haven’t a clue, but, here.”

Harry accepted the bouquet graciously, tempted to shove her face in it and feel the soft petals against her cheeks. She restrained herself, taking a delicate sniff instead. 

“Thank you, Louis, they’re beautiful,” she smiled, holding them to her chest. “You didn’t have to.”

Louis smiled back at her, fidgeting with her fringe. “Yeah, but I felt so bad I missed your big night, and I wanted to give you something nice.”

Harry’s grin turned lascivious. “I can think of plenty nice things you can give me.”

Louis snorted and rolled her eyes. So much for Harry's well-planned segue. “Alright, well, I’m gonna get a vase for those, feel free to write a list while I’m gone,” Louis sassed, making her way towards the kitchen. 

“Oh, I will,” Harry called after her—softly, so as not to wake the others. 

Harry heard Louis’ laughter from the kitchen, and hid her smile in the flowers. 

 

❧❧❧

 

The topic of marriage surprisingly didn't come up until about year after Harry had first joined the ranks of humanity. It was a cool February afternoon, and Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, and the band were braving the weather to have a lovely picnic in the park to celebrate Harry's 19th birthday. 

Harry was fresh from the holiday season, full of new knowledge about the particular ways the humans closest to her chose to celebrate with their bastardised versions of Harry's own religious practices. She'd made a promise to herself that if she and Louis were ever blessed with children, she would raise them as she had been; the old ways could live, outside the mountain.

It had been lovely to meet Liam’s family over Christmas, though; Louis and Harry went with Liam back to her hometown, something Louis had apparently been doing for the past two years. They were wonderful people, even if Harry wished Louis might tell them the truth about her and Liam. 

But that was a fight that Harry had long since stopped trying to have. 

Today was about celebration, and family, and friendship. She was sipping her pomegranate juice and leaning back against Louis’ chest, enjoying the afternoon and the company of her loved ones.

Until a very drunk Clare decided to ask an inappropriate question. “You two are so cute!” she slurred, pointing at Harry and Louis’ intertwined forms. “When are you getting–”  _ hiccup _ “–married?”

Harry felt Louis stiffen against her back. 

Liam looked panicked, strangely enough, and shushed Clare, like that would somehow make everyone un-hear her question. 

Niall sent Harry and exaggerated wink, which Harry didn’t appreciate. She’d known she’d come to regret telling Niall about the ring she’d bought a month ago, but she’d done it anyway. Because the ring was beautiful, an emerald embedded in a golden band with leaves engraved around the side. It would look lovely on Louis’ finger for the rest of her life. And it had cost almost half the money Harry had made signing the contract with Chasm's new label. It had been a sound decision, in Harry's mind; their EP had been doing well on streaming services, and they had already written most of their upcoming album. Life was about to get more hectic for Harry, and she wanted to start that process with commitment rather than uncertainty.

But she hadn't meant for it to be  _now._  

Harry sat up slowly. She turned over her shoulder to look at Louis, a question in her eyes. Louis was glaring at Liam, but she turned her attention to Harry immediately. “Well, actually,” she said, licking her lips like she did when she was nervous. 

Harry stood, ignoring the gasps of their inebriated friends. 

“Louis,” she began, warning in her tone. This was  _ not  _ the elaborate candlelit dinner for two in the sanctum of old magic she’d been planning for months. This was just…

A sunny picnic in the park, with all of her loved ones. Harry deflated.

She looked around at their faces, the mixture of caution and delight—or, in Clare’s case, teary-eyed guilt. She took a deep breath. 

Louis pushed herself to her feet and approached her with caution. “I don’t have to, if it’s not something–” she began in a hushed tone, hands outstretched. If it weren’t for the decision Harry was trying to make, she might have been tempted to coo at how cute it was that Louis was trying to have a sidebar with her in the middle of her impromptu proposal.  

Harry shook her head in response, cutting Louis off. Then, she fell to her knees. Louis’ eyes widened, body frozen. She looked so pretty, with her backwards cap and her tank top and neon shorts. Harry beamed at her and reached in to her pocket. 

“I had something a little different planned for this,” she whispered up at Louis through her grin. Louis smiled then, too, and huffed.  
  
“Me too, but it’s not too late, yeah?” She looked at their friends, their prying eyes. 

Harry looked at them too. “No, I think I like this better,” she said, full volume. 

Then, she took Louis hand and placed a small, velvet box in her palm. 

“Louis, you are my North Star. Even when I thought I'd lost you, you were still the brightest thing in my life. I have been yours for nineteen short years, and while I did manage to live a life without you in it, I never want to try ever again.” Louis closed her fingers around the box, shaking her head. Harry pressed on. “I would like very much to commit myself to you in the customs of your people.”

“This is the strangest proposal I’ve ever heard,” Harry heard Niall whisper. Zayn shushed her. 

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” Harry finished. She uncurled Louis’ fingers from around the box gently and lifted the lid. Louis squeezed her eyes shut. 

“I fucking regret letting you do this in front of those assholes,” Louis hissed, wiping away a few tears that had escaped. 

“You’re allowed to cry, Louis!” Adam yelled in support.

Louis flipped him off. 

Harry tried to be patient, but Louis hadn’t exactly given her an answer yet. “Louis,” she said, shaking her hand a little.

Louis laughed down at her, a soft, fond thing. She pulled the ring from the box and held it up to the sunlight. “How much did you spend on this, baby?”

Harry crossed her arms, feigning petulance. “There’s no price too high for true love,  _ sweetie, _ ” she responded.

Louis pursed her lips as she slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit, of course.

Then, she crouched down. She pulled a box of her own from her back pocket and offered it to Harry with her right hand. 

“You can stop being snippy now, Harry, my answer is yes,” she sassed, examining the ring on her finger like she hadn’t just made Harry the happiest woman in the world. 

“What does mine look like?” Harry rushed out, pulling the box open excitedly. Inside was almost identical in design to Louis’, with one difference; the stone was a sapphire. 

“Its blue,” Harry said, dumbly. 

Louis laughed softly, then moved forwards. She placed her hand on Harry’s neck, the cold metal of her ring sending a shiver down Harry’s body. “You know you can’t trust Niall with shit like this,” Louis said, nosing Harry’s cheek. “She told me about an hour after you bought it.”

Harry couldn’t even be mad at her, not when it meant that her and Louis had  _ matching  _ rings. She hadn’t even considered that, but the thought was more perfect than she had words for. 

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry said, pressing her head into Louis’ neck. “It’s beautiful.”

Louis hummed as she stroked Harry’s hair. Harry blindly pulled the ring onto her finger, then regretfully pulled away so she could stare at the way it gleamed in the sun, how it looked on her hand. 

“So I was thinking March, for our handfasting,” Louis said casually, tangling their fingers together. “I’ve got a week off work, and there’s a window where you don’t have any gigs, and I’m working on getting everyone organised to attend. If we travel up to the forest near the mountain, Gemma and Anne said they would sneak out to do the binding for us–”   


Harry kissed her, pouring all of her love into it, for fear that otherwise it might bubble out of her. She wasn’t big enough, quite simply, to contain the immense happiness she was feeling. Louis kissed her back like she understood, like she felt the same. 

Their friends cheered sloppily, and Harry broke the kiss to giggle against Louis’ cheek. 

“Fuck yeah! Love wins!” Niall shouted. 

Clare threw some rice at them—a handful of loose, cooked rice—and soon enough everyone was laughing. The sound of their merriment drew i few strange looks from passersby in the park, but if any of the group noticed, they didn’t care at all. The food and the drinks kept flowing, and Louis stayed next to Harry as the sun slowly set and the moon showed its shining face. The drop in temperature called an end to the party, sadly, but everyone piled into two cars to continue the celebrations at the girls' apartment.

Harry pulled Louis into her lap, content to just hold her as she argued with Niall, Liam, and Zayn about who should be the maid of honour at their wedding. The streets of London rolled past, no longer as unwelcoming as Harry remembered them seeming. She hooked her head over Louis' shoulder as she gazed out the window, smiling to herself when Louis paused her impassioned speech long enough into whisper into Harry's ear a quick, sincere: "I love you."

If this was what Harry's first year as a human had brought her, then she couldn't wait to find out what other blessings lay ahead.

 

 

_ The End.  _

**Author's Note:**

> There's a fic post over on my [tumblr](http://graceling-in-a-suit.tumblr.com/post/178607261155/graceling-in-a-suit-graceling-in-a-suit) if you wanna go chuck that a like/reblog/virtual rotten cabbage. Your choice, dear reader. Thank you for embarking on this journey with me, I hope you enjoyed yourself. Lots of love.


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